


perplexion

by ntkrrs



Category: Batman - All Media Types, DC Extended Universe, Teen Titans (Animated Series), Young Justice (Cartoon)
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Human, Awkward Conversations, Clubbing, Ensemble Cast, F/M, Friendship, Mild Sexual Content, References to Drugs, Sexual Content, tags will be added as the story goes along to avoid spoilers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-12
Updated: 2020-06-20
Packaged: 2021-03-03 03:21:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 18,306
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24148102
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ntkrrs/pseuds/ntkrrs
Summary: on hiatus.
Relationships: Dick Grayson/Koriand'r, Garfield Logan/Raven, Karen Beecher/Victor Stone, Selina Kyle/Bruce Wayne
Comments: 8
Kudos: 40





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> All characters do not belong to me. Names used for auxiliary characters are based on cast & crew of the show.

_**Biggest Gotham City drug bust leads to over $54M worth of illegal substances seized  
** _ _by Iris West-Allen_

_August 24, 2009_

_This is Gotham City Police Department’s heftiest drug bust to date._

_Last August 18, the GCPD, led by Commissioner James W. Gordon, infiltrated an unmarked warehouse at the Dixon Docks, successfully seizing around $4.5 million worth of methamphetamine pills, $10 million worth of cocaine, and $40 million worth of a new drug called Crane serum._

_Upon exposure, either through injection or inhalation, the Crane serum causes its victims to experience hallucinations. Anyone who is exposed to larger-than-average doses of the serum will experience severe hallucinations. Prolonged exposure can induce minute brain damage._

_The GCPD received an anonymous tip that the drug ring routinely held their operations in the area._

_“The drug problem in Gotham is getting bigger and bigger,” said Gordon in a press conference the day after the operation was made. “The GCPD is more than happy that we were able to deal a big hit to the Cult, but there’s more work to be done.”_

_The Cult of Blood, one of the key players in the drug syndicate, was discovered to be running the operation at Dixon. There were no casualties but over $500,000 worth of damage to the docks. The Gotham City government have stated that they will be undergoing construction to repair the damage._

_“Rest assured that Wayne Enterprises will join in cooperation with the government to rebuild the part of Gotham City that has been damaged,” Wayne Enterprises owner Bruce Wayne said in a separate press conference._

_Construction will begin by the end of August. - **The Central City Citizen**_

* * *

The Art Department of the Jump City University found life in an old brick building on campus, one of the first structures built when the campus was founded in 1955, a decade after the end of World War II. In its early days, it housed students, before being converted into a classroom building, but a fire razed the premises (faulty wiring) in the early 90's and, upon its repair, was declared as the stomping grounds of the then-budding art department.

In 2006, in line with his partnership with the California Arts Council, a hefty donation by multi-billionaire Bruce Wayne via the Martha Wayne Foundation allowed the JCU Art Department to expand and upgrade its facilities, as well as open up scholarships and new courses of study that were in demand in the current century, such as animation arts.

Over the years, the JCU Art Department built a itself to be a reputable department within the school, with high employment rates in the entertainment industry, particularly in gaming. The BA Game Development program was one of the most coveted programs in the department, its rigorous coursework trained their students to transform into enthusiasts to creators in a span of of four years.

That said, it still sucked to be a BA GD undergrad.

" _Fucking hell_ ," Garfield Logan groaned, taking the time to carefully angle his body just so. Once he was satisfied, he slammed his head a little bit to the side of his keyboard. (If he landed dead center, he would've ruined everything he worked on for the past four hours.)

"That's it," Gar muttered, slowly straightening. He dragged his hand to the mouse and saved his work. "I'm going home." A steady stream of clicks as he saved, saved, and saved his work (saved once again for good measure, can't forget that) before booting down the computer he was using.

"Not doing to good, Gar?" Victor asked from his left.

Victor Stone was a year above him, a junior majoring in Biomedical Engineering. The Sciences Building was on the other side of campus, but the dorm building he and Garfield shared the same floor of was nearer, so he tended to hang out a lot in the Art Building.

"I give up," the younger boy whined, "I need sleep. Can't finish games without sleep." He eyed Victor's complicated-looking 3D model. "What's that?"

"It's an arm."

"Oh." Victor twisted the model around. When Gar didn't respond, the bigger man hid several layers of his model, leaving a bare bones outline. Gar nodded, finally understanding. "Sweet."

"Well," Gar began, rubbing his arms on his thighs. "I'm gonna go. Good luck with that, Vic."

Packing up his things with one last goodbye, he ventured out of the almost-empty computer lab. It was much warmer outside than it was inside, so Garfield shed his jacket and stuffed it into his already-crowded backpack.

"Gar, hey!"

Lifting his head from his wrestling match with his shirt, he smiled at his friends. "Hey, Dick. Hey, Kori."

Dick Grayson—rich, handsome, taking up Mechanical Engineering and Business Management, the program that had the highest mortality rate, and _of course_ the guy was top of his class—and Kori Anders—gorgeous, statuesque, foreign International Relations major who was literally the nicest person Garfield had ever met in his life—were _the_ power couple of the school.

"How are you, friend Garfield?" Kori asked politely, leaning in to kiss both cheeks, as they were wont to do in Europe.

"Surviving."

Dick laughed. "I hear that. At least midterms are almost over."

"Where'd you guys come from?" Gar asked.

"Oh, we're meeting a friend of ours," Dick answered. "She actually lives in your building, on the lowest girls' floor. We can all walk there."

Garfield nodded. "Oh, sure." Falling into step, they exited the Art building and walked to the dormitories a ways away. "Who is she? Why're you meeting her?"

"Her name is Rachel," Kori answered, "She has been ill these past few days, so I am dropping off some French homework since were are in the same class."

"French?" Gar asked, confused. "Weren't you taking German?"

"I was taking Russian, and that was an elective. I have chosen French to be my minor."

"Oh, I get it," Garfield said, not getting anything at all.

As soon as they got to the building, Kori whipped out her phone and pressed a few buttons before placing the headpiece of her ear. Garfield, who happened to be staring at a tiny group of smokers at the side of the building, watched a short-haired girl take out her phone, speak briefly into it, before killing her cigarette and walking over.

"Is that her?" Gar asked. At Kori's nod, he frowned a bit. "I thought she was... She doesn't _look_ sick to me."

"No, she does not," Kori said, mirroring his displeasure. 

" _Bonjour_ , Kori," the girl greeted in perfectly accented French, once she was in earshot. " _Merci d'avoir pris la peine de me les donner_."

" _Vous êtes les bienvenus_." The redhead gave a crisp brown envelope with a small frown. "Rachel _, je sais que je ne suis pas en mesure de vous gronder, mais vous devez vous concentrer sur votre rétablissement. Fumer ne va pas aider_."

" _Je suis d'accord, c'est une mauvaise habitude_." Rachel shrugged, reaching over to kiss Richard's cheek. " _Mais c'est dur d'arrêter_." Finally laying her eyes on Garfield, she gave him a once over that made him shift uncomfortably.

" _Voulez-vous s'il vous plaît me présenter à votre ami_?"

Garfield had no idea what she said, but he straightened.

"Oh! _Oui_ , I apologize," Kori said, gesturing between the two. "Rachel, this is Garfield. He is a friend of mine, Dick's, and Victor's. Garfield, this is Rachel. She is a Literature major and is in my French class."

"Victor Stone?" Rachel queried.

"Uh, yeah. Hi," Gar greeted, awkwardly extending a hand. "I'm not well-versed in French."

Rachel delayed her handshake long enough for Gar to feel self-conscious, but eventually she shook his hand with a blank gaze. "That's fine, I can speak English. It's nice to meet you."

" _Ni vyema kukutana na wewe_ ," Garfield said with a small smile.

Rachel's brow crinkled, a genuine show of emotion from her otherwise lacklustre expressions as she took her hand back. "Oh, I'm not good with African languages."

"Hey, not bad!" he said earnestly, eyes lighting up. "You have the right continent, which is more than I can say for anyone. It's Swahili."

"You can speak Swahili?" Dick asked, brow furrowing at Garfield. The redhead chipperly nodded. "Huh. Didn't know _that_."

"Rachel has an interest in foreign languages," Kori supplied, ignoring her boyfriend.

Gar grinned. "That's so cool! English and French?"

"Some Japanese and Russian," she said.

"Wow," Gar said with awe. Rachel shifted.

"Oh, we gotta go," Dick spoke up, peeking at his watch. "Kori and I have dinner with Bruce downtown." He gave Rachel a small smile. "I'll say hi to Bruce for you."

"No need to; Bruce hates me," she said flatly.

Dick frowned. "You know that's not true."

Rachel raised an eyebrow, then rolled her eyes with a heavy sigh. "Fine. He's not _fond_ of me."

"Rachel," he admonished with a shake of his head. When her surly expression didn't change, he decided to leave it be. "Whatever. I'll say hi to Alfred for you." Dick leaned in and kissed Rachel's cheek. "Want me to ask him to make brownies for you?"

Rachel went from surly to slightly hopeful. "If it's not too much."

Dick chuckled. "You know Alfred. It's never too much."

"Good bye, friends," Kori said, kissing their cheeks. 

"Bye," Rachel said, accepting the kisses. "Have fun." She turned to Gar, who was waving them goodbye. "Aren't you leaving, too?"

Surprised by the bluntness, he just blinked. "Uh, oh, um," he said intelligently. "I live here. Third floor. Three-oh-nine?"

"Is that so?" Rachel said, uninterestedly.

For some reason, Gar couldn't stop his mouth from making words. "Uh, yeah. I don't actually have a roommate, though. My roommate got expelled. Hacked into the school system to change his grades and called the principal a 'snot-brained turd.' His words."

"That's…," Rachel cast him a glance, "Interesting." She pause. "Wait. You mean Gizmo?"

Garfield nodded. "Yeah, that's him."

"I didn't know he got expelled. The last I heard was that he got suspended."

"He got suspended for hacking into the system to change his grades. He got expelled for the 'snot-brained turd' comment."

"Oh. Makes sense."

"Anyway. Yeah."

She stared at him.

Garfield swallowed, forcing himself not to fidget under the awkward silence, "So, uh—"

"I'm going to go now," Rachel said offhandedly, shrugging.

Gar blinked, and cleared his throat. "Oh. Okay, then."

Without another word, she pulled out a cigarette pack and a lighter from her pocket and walked back to the smoking area. No one paid her any mind.

Garfield stared after her, taken aback by her attitude. "Uh, see you around, I guess?" he muttered under his breath, walking into the building without another look in her direction.

* * *

“On your marks!”

Wally pressed his feet against the running blocks.

“Set!”

He pushed his hips up and held his breath.

**_BANG!_ **

He bolted as soon as the starting gun resounded, breath left in the wind. He’s focused, committed, and determined to make the fastest time as he races toward the finish line. The crowd in the bleachers was a blur of sound and colors, and all he heard was the rushing of blood in his ears. His fingers felt the cold air that touched his sweaty palms, and his feet were like feathers. Weightless, light, quick.

The eight hundred meter sprint was _made_ for him.

He just ran past the blonde girl he met earlier from National, and soon after he’s surpassed two other runners. He’s in the top spot, first of the bunch, and he has to make sure to take the shortest route as they round the curve.

His legs were burning and his lungs felt full but he’s so _alive_ , like he’s flying, like each cell in his body seemingly vibrating faster than the speed of sound, like he was struck by lightning and granted the power to outrun everyone on Earth. He loves running, he wants to do it forever. Some people are born to dance, some are born to sing, but him—he was made for this. He was made for 800-meter sprints and hurdles and _track_.

His gaze was drawn to the finish line, and a burst of energy propelled him forward. His legs were on fire, his throat dry, heart pumping in his chest, but he’s so close, _so close_ —

The crowd burst into cheer and he forced himself to slow down, a few hundred meters from the finish line. And suddenly his team crowded his vision, surrounding him from all around. There’s screaming and shouting and someone yelled in his ear,“West, you made it! Fastest time for the 800 sprint! You did it!”

He forced the heat behind his eyes to cool and he screamed. _Victory_.

* * *

Garfield just got out of class when his phone trilled. He smiled at the ID and picked up. “Hello, Megan!”

 _“Ha ha,”_ said his sister Megan from the other end of the line. _“Very funny, Gar. How are you?”_

“Good. Just got out of class. You?”

_“Just finished this season’s wrap party!”_

“Oh, man, eight seasons wrapped already? Congrats, Megs!”

_“Thanks, Gar. Anyway, I’m calling to remind you that I’m flying into Jump tonight at around eight.”_

“You have a car booked?”

_“Yep! And I’ve booked a room at St. Thibault until Monday. Think you can manage hanging out with your big sister for a whole weekend?”_

“You sure you want someone to play third-wheel with you and _Conner?_ ” he teased.

She laughed, a light, tinkling sound. _“As much as I would_ love _that, baby brother, Conner’s not coming. He and Clark are having a brother’s trip this weekend to Metropolis. So, what do you say?”_

“Hmm,” he mock-thought, “Hang out with my mega-famous sister in one of the swankiest hotels in Jump City _or_ stare at my leaky dorm ceiling?”

Her tone went from joking to serious. “ _Your ceiling is leaking? Do you want me to call a contractor?”_

Garfield snorted. “I was joking, Megs. Of course I’ll hang out with you! But yes, I would appreciate a contractor.”

Megan snorted in a way that was eerily similar to Garfield's. _“Okay, great. Be at the St. Thibault at eight-thirty. We can go shopping for what to wear for tomorrow after dinner?”_

“Sounds like a plan,” he affirmed. He was crossing the courtyard when he spotted Rachel reading a newspaper. “Oh, gotta go, Megs. See you later?”

_“Bye, little brother! See you!”_

He hung up and jogged over to Rachel. “Hey.”

She jumped. Looking up at the newcomer, she let out a sigh of relief. “You scared me.”

Gar grinned sheepishly. “Heh. Sorry. Mind if I join you?”

She shook her head, motioning to the clump of grass that was unoccupied.

Garfield grinned and took a seat next to her. “Sorry if we weren’t introduced properly last time we met. I’m Garfield Logan.” He extended his hand for a shake.

She stared at the hand. "But... we were introduced."

He shrugged. "Yeah, but it wasn't... you know, it could always be improved. And I'd rather introduce myself when I'm sitting next to you than in passing." He nudged his hand a little forward.

Rachel reached out her hand and gently took his proffered one. “Rachel Roth.”

“What’s your major?” he asked with a grin when they let go.

“Psychology.”

“Cool. I’m a GD major."

Rachel gave him a quizzical look. “A… what?”

“Game dev.”

“Oh. I see.” Saying nothing else, she moved her attention went back to her newspaper.

Gar's smile dropped into a scowl as soon as she did. If _you don’t want to talk to me_ , he groused silently, _just say so_. His eyes drifted to the paper she was reading. ****

 **_JCPD: Gotham City drug has resurged in Jump City  
_ ** _by Margaret Dean_

_July 22, 2016_

_The Jump City Police Department has confirmed that Crane serum, a drug that was created and distributed in Gotham City over 10 years ago, has been found in Jump City._

_“There has been recent evidence to conclude that Crane serum has made its way to Jump City,” said JCPD spokesperson Bonnie Buckner in an interview. “The JCPD is implementing stricter measures in regulating pharmaceuticals that are mainly utilizing peer-to-peer distribution. However, given the current circumstances, we’re advising caution to all citizens of Jump City.”_

_The liquid drug, largely distributed and manufactured by the gang called the Cult of Blood, can be ingested via a syringe directly to the bloodstream, or through inhalation when in powdered form._

_The GCPD has confirmed that they have partnered with the Gotham City Police Department in investigating how the drug traveled despite the arrests of gang leaders—_

“ _What are you doing_?”

Garfield jerked away and found Rachel glaring at him. He blinked, “Sorry! Sorry, I, uh—"

“Why are you reading my newspaper?”

“Sorry! Sorry. I didn’t—I thought you wouldn’t mind.” Gar began, but Rachel collected her things and stood up.

“Well, next time, mind your own business,” she said sharply, and with one final glare, she left.

* * *

Dick was woken up by a series of loud knocks on his bedroom door. "Nghhh," he groaned.

The knocking, unfortunately, did not stop.

He lifted his head from his comfy, comfy pillows and glared at the door like it personally offended him. “What?!”

“Dick, open the door,” someone called from the other side. Someone familiar, someone older, and someone who Dick was in no power to say no to because unfortunately, this Someone had bought him this apartment. And this bed. And these pillows. These comfy, _comfy_ pillows.

The concern left his brain as soon as he buried his face back into his bedding.

When the knocks didn’t stop, Dick whined, a high, pathetic noise, and rolled over in his bed. He crashed to the floor, jerked himself up, and trudged towards the door. Ripping it open, he blearily glared at the approximate area where Bruce's head would be. “ _What_."

Bruce raised an eyebrow.

Dick blinked slowly, his brain shedding its last vestiges of slumber. When Bruce's face cleared in his vision, he jumped in surprise. “Bruce! What are you doing in Jump?”

"Good morning to you, too," the older man said, giving Dick a once over.

"It’s seven A.M. on a _Saturday,_ so don't look at me like that." He shook his head. Something dawned on him. "Wait. Bruce? What are you doing in Jump?"

“Will you be heading out today?” Bruce asked, ignoring Dick’s question. The younger man surveyed his step-father's attire, impeccably dressed in dress shoes, dark jeans and dress shirt, a belt, and a…

“No. Is that a cheetah print tie? Why are you wearing a cheetah print tie?”

Bruce ignored him again. “Good. Get dressed.”

Dick needled him further. “ _Why_ are you wearing a _cheetah print tie_?” 

Bruce sighed. “Selina is organizing to raise a very large sum for the Jump City Zoo to help their efforts in feline conservation, so she invited me to be her date. Today’s the zoo visit, tonight’s the dinner.”

Dick leaned against his doorframe, smirking. “Ooh, Bruce and Selina are going out to play. I take it after the dinner you’re going to make me a new step-sibling?”

“You can barely handle three.”

“Hey, Jason and Tim are fine, but Damian is some kind of _metahuman_ and you know it.”

Bruce waved him off. “Excuses. Now, go get dressed.”

“I still don’t understand why you woke me up at 7 A.M. for this.”

“Representative JCU scholars will be making an appearance, and it’ll be good press if it’s going to be a family affair.”

“Yes, but _why should I be going along with this_ is my question.”

“Because I’ll need your help.”

At the sight of Bruce’s smirk, Dick sighed, already accepting in defeat. “You have no one to babysit Damian, have you?”

Bruce turned to leave. “At least I know my money’s being well-spent on your education. Now, go. We’re going to be late. Oh, and wear something that says ‘big cat conservation.’”

“A _cheetah print tie_ hardly counts as saying ‘big cat conservation,’” Dick argued.

“Neither does morning wood,” Bruce quipped over his shoulder, making Dick blush. “Get that taken care of and get dressed. We’re leaving in 45 minutes.”

Dick hurriedly slammed his door shut to hide his embarrassment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't speak French or Swahili. All translations are by Google Translate.
> 
> "Bonjour, Kori. Thank you for taking the trouble to give [the homework] to me."
> 
> "You are welcome. Rachel, I know I can't scold you, but you have to focus on your recovery. Smoking will not help."
> 
> "I agree, it's a bad habit. But it's hard to stop. Would you please introduce me to your friend?"
> 
> "It's nice to meet you."


	2. Chapter 2, pt. 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter lengths will be longer from now on due to a reworking of the story.

The red carpet that trailed the side of the newly renamed Jump City Animal Conservatory was littered with fans and paparazzi, all buzzing trying to get a glimpse of the big names who'd graced the fundraiser for the Selina Kyle Feline Foundation.

A bubbly blonde dressed fluffed her hair and secured her earpiece further. She looked back at her spot; she's right before the entrance, where celebrities would turn back for photos and she has good chances of getting a question or two in. "We good, Heo?"

"Ready to roll, Court." Her cameraman gave her a thumbs up and got into position. Court adjusted her the hem and bust of her long dress to make sure she wouldn't have any mishaps on camera, before plastering on a huge smile. "Going live in three, two, one—"

"Hey, everyone, and welcome to _Stargirl_!" the blonde said enthusiastically said into her microphone. "It's your girl Courtney Whitmore, and we're here at the red carpet of the newly inaugurated Jump City Animal Conservatory, where Selina Kyle has donated for the renovation and expansion of the feline section of the zoo-turned-conservatory. Some guests have already started to arrive, but we're _all_ waiting for—Oh my gosh, here they are! Bruce Wayne and Selina Kyle have just arrived!"

Stepping out of the limo and into the screams of fans and flashes of cameras, Bruce turned and offered his arm to his girlfriend, his eyes lingering a little too long on her chest.

Selina smirked up at him. "Eyes up here, Bruce," she purred.

Bruce smirked but met her gaze nonetheless. "I like your dress."

"This old thing?" She looked down at the silk slip that hung by thin straps, meeting in a cowl showed off a modest amount of cleavage. The blood red was beautiful against her skin—particularly against the leg that was unveiled when the panels of fabric came apart to produce a thigh-high slit. "I just threw it on."

Bruce hummed appreciatively. "You look beautiful."

Selina recognized the genuine affection and reached up to kiss him softly. Screams and applause could be heard from the crowd.

The moment was cut off. "You're holding up the line," someone chided irritably from behind them. The couple separated to find an annoyed Dick with a baby in his hands. Damian was making an admirable effort to steal his sunglasses.

Bruce rolled his eyes while Selina said, "Thanks so much for coming, Dick. I really appreciate it."

Dick pushed his arms out to hold Damian at arms' length, whose little baby arms did grabby motions in the air. He glared at Bruce. "You _so_ owe me for this."

"Duly noted," the older man said dully, turning to lead his date towards the entrance.

"Did he just _ignore_ me?" Dick muttered indignantly under his breath. He huffed and looked back at Damian. "Guess it's just you and me, buddy," he mumbled and followed the couple to the entrance. Occasionally he would pause and say hi, taking pictures when he could, but mostly he tried to avoid the screaming fangirls who were _not_ shy whatsoever about proposing illicit activities that could result in more friends for Damian. _Closely aged_ friends for Damian.

Before he could make it to the entrance, a blonde stopped him with her microphone. "Richard Grayson! Hi! I'm Courtney from _Stargirl_. Great outfit!"

"Oh, hi, Courtney. Thanks," Dick answered with a smile, rocking Damian in his arms.

"Here to support your step-father's girlfriend?"

"And babysit, as you can see," he joked, avoiding another one of his step-brother's attempts to take off his sunglasses.

"Are you a fan of big cats?"

"I'm more of a bird boy myself," he quipped, making Courtney giggle, "But anything to help the environment. We only have one Earth, after all."

"Fabulous," Courtney praised, "Now, is it true that your girlfriend is—"

A flurry of screams started out by the cars and slowly increased in volume. Courtney jumped, and her cameraman turned to get more of the action. The blonde looked torn between continuing the interview or following her cameraman's lead, so Dick answered the question for her and took the opportunity to run inside.

Courtney scowled but, remembering she had a job to do, turned towards the street. She tried to view whoever just arrived, but the flailing hands made it hard. "Who is it?" she asked Heo."

"I think it's—"

"M'GANN MORZZ!" a girl screamed. The crowd went crazy again.

"Holy frickin' Christ," Courtney muttered under her breath, away from her microphone. She tugged on Heo's sleeve so he could come closer and get a better shot.

M'gann waved to the crowd, posing for the cameras while ignoring the several 'MARRY ME' signs being held up in the air.

Gar stepped out of the car and surveyed the scene. "Well," he joked. "I'm gonna tell Conner he has some competition."

In an impressive, stealthy maneuver, she smacked him while making it look like she was helping him stand next to her.

"Ow!"

"M'gann! M'gann, over here!" Courtney cried, waving her arms.

M'gann made her way over. "Hi, Courtney!"

"Hi! You look beautiful! Who are you wearing?"

"Aw, thanks!" M'gann stepped back to let the camera see her outfit. "As usual, I'm wearing a Lindy Hemming original."

"Fabulous! And I see you brought— _oh my gosh, Gar_!"

"Hey, Court." Gar gave her a two-fingered salute.

In a rare show of unprofessionalism, Courtney reached forward to hug her interviewee. "You're the last person I expect to be at an event like this!"

Gar laughed and hugged the girl back. "Yeah, it's been a few years since I've been in front of a camera, but M'gann was in town and I couldn't pass up the opportunity to hang out with my big sister!"

"How sweet!" Courtney gushed. She turned to M'gann and prepared her mic. "So, _Hello, Megan!_ is about to wrap up its eighth season! Anything you can tell us?"

"I'm just very grateful for the opportunity," M'gann said, speaking closer to the microphone, "We get to tell our story and the stories of different people through the show, so it's really great. I didn't expect eight seasons at all!"

"So the last episode just aired and it ended on a pretty intense cliffhanger! Did Conner _really_ get your character pregnant on the show?"

"Well, I could tell you, _or_ you could tune in next week to find out," M'gann teased, winking at the camera.

"Sorry, ma'm," a gruff bodyguard said as he approached, "Kindly make your way inside."

"Oh, of course," M'gann said, allowing the man to guide her. She turned to Courtney and smiled. "Thank you!"

"Well, that's our cue. Bye, Court!" Gar waved, jogging after his sister. 

Before she could properly say goodbye, another wave of screams diverted the reporter's attention. She hastily waved her arms when she recognized the next personality who stepped on the red carpet. "Kara Zor-El! Kara, over here!"

* * *

Garfield loved his sister to bits, he really did. But _God_ , did she find her unrelenting politeness annoying, especially when it led to her to hold conversations with practically _anyone_ at _any_ event. Particularly at semi-formal events where he had almost no one else to talk to.

Most of them greeted him when they came across him—he guessed they were probably long-time fans of the show—and while he thought it was nice of them, he knew they were 100 percent there for his sister, which more or less prompted him to survey the venue when he wasn't being spoken to.

The place was beautifully prepared. Everything was decorated in white—the activity center of the conservatory was turned into the dining area, fairy lights hanging from the trees. White floral arrangements centered each round dining table. White table cloths, white chairs—even the _flatware_ was white!

 _Is the food white too_? he thought with a snicker.

"No, it isn't," someone spoke from behind him.

Gar jumped approximately a hundred feet (read: half a foot) into the air. He twisted and glared at the newcomer. "Dude! Don't scare me like that!"

"'Sup," Dick responded coolly. Damian gurgled in his arms.

"Aw, hey little D," Gar cooed, moving forward to tickle the baby's belly.

Dick scowled. "You can't use that nickname on him when he turns twelve."

"Why?" Gar smirked, "I use it for you all the time."

"Because I'm holding a baby, I'm gonna let that one pass." He changed the subject, avoiding another one of Damian's attempts to swipe his sunglasses. "I didn't see you at the press event this morning."

"I was hanging out with Courtney—you know, the reporter from _Stargirl_? Yeah, her—almost the whole morning and just let M'gann do her thing." He gestured to the baby. "How about you? No Kori tonight?"

"No, she has a shoot. Hey, I see you finally cut your hair."

Gar scratched his newly trimmed fade. "Thanks. Megs practically begged me to get a haircut."

Dick nodded. "Looks good. And nice suit."

"Thanks, Little D!"

"You—" Dick stopped and huffed, deciding not to rise to the bait. "Whatever. Hey, you seen Rachel yet?"

The redhead's brow furrowed. "She's here?"

Dick nodded. "Yeah, she's one of the representatives of the Martha Wayne Foundation."

"Huh?" Garfield's brow crinkled further. "Why would she be a rep?"

"Oh, you didn't know? She's a One Hundred scholar."

Gar's jaw dropped "She's a—" He shook his head vigorously. "Wait. Rachel's a _One Hundred_ scholar? For real?"

The Martha Wayne Foundation, stemming from the donation made by Bruce Wayne several years prior, provided scholarships of varying coverages to several students on campus, ranging from twenty-five percent to one hundred percent. The select few students who merited the full scholarship, collectively called the One Hundred, received not money to cover the tuition, but a regular stipend, and a guaranteed job at any of Wayne Enterprises' subsidiaries once they graduated.

"Yeah," Dick said, adjusting Damian in his arms.

Garfield couldn't stem his shock. "Dude! That's crazy!" He shook his head. "You knew this? Since when?"

"Since forever, man. I've known her since I was ten."

"You _have_? Are you like… cousins or something?"

"Well, no, but—"

"Dick," someone called, cutting him off.

Both boys turned to find Selina walking over with Rachel. The younger girl's eyebrows rose when she saw Garfield.

"What are you—" Rachel began, but Dick cut her off.

"Hey, Selina," the dark-haired man interrupted, "This is my friend Garfield, we both go to JCU. Garfield, this is Selina Kyle. I'm sure you know who she is."

"Oh, stop it, Dick." Selina extended an elegant hand to the redhead. "Pleased to meet you, Garfield. You look familiar... Have we met before?"

Garfield set his eyes on the older woman and instantly forgot what he was thinking about. He'd only ever saw her in photos, and he could see that they did her no justice. The woman was _beautiful_.

And he wasn't even talking about the _dress_.

"Uh," he said intelligently.

"I don't think so, Sel," Dick said with a shake of his head.

"Oh, I apologize," the older woman said with a shake of her head. "I've probably seen too many faces today. Anyway, it's lovely to have you join us. Are you a fan of big cats?"

Gar tried to resist gaping in bedazzlement as he took her hand to give it a firm shake. "Miss Kyle! I'm a—I— _uh._ "

Dick snorted.

The redhead shook his head and awkwardly let go of her hand. "Sorry, Ms. Kyle. Yes, I'm, uh, a big fan of big cat conservation. Of _any_ animal conservation in general, actually."

"Selina is just fine, Garfield." Selina smiled conspiratorially. "If you're a fan, then I'm sure you were _thrilled_ when this zoo turned into a conservatory."

"Oh, _beyond_ ," the redhead agreed with a grin. He joined in when Selina laughed. "And please, call me Gar."

"Wonderful, Gar! I'm glad I've found an ally for animals in you." Selina laid a hand on Rachel's shoulder. "Anyway, I'm just dropping off Rachel before I address people. I trust you'll be here 'til the photos will be taken?"

"I'm here 'til my sister's here," Gar answered.

This time, it was Raven who spoke. "Sister?"

"Gar!"

"Speak of the devil," Gar grinned. He gestured for M'gann to come over, but she was accosted by someone on the way.

"Wait," Selina said, looking back and forth between the siblings. "If M'gann Morzz is your sister..." She snapped her fingers. " _Now_ I know why you look familiar!" Selina said to Garfield. "Didn't you play—"

"I did," Gar said with a sheepish grin.

"Oh, you're so grown up now! How old were you when you played Ryan?"

"I was around... thirteen? Yeah, thirteen." Gar nodded. "I played Ryan until I was fifteen."

"Who's Ryan?" Dick asked, confused.

"Ryan was Megan's neighbor on the show," Selina answered.

"Wait," Dick gaped, " _You_ were on _television_?"

At that moment, M'gann arrived. Gar ignored Dick's question in favor of introducing his sister to everyone. "This is M'gann Morzz, my beautiful sister. Megs, this is Dick and Raven, friends from school, and Selina Kyle."

"Hi everyone," M'gann greeted. When she turned to Selina, she reddened somewhat. "Hello, Ms. Kyle! Thank you so much for inviting me."

"Oh, it was was my pleasure!" Selina gushed, reaching out to take M'gann's hand. "And none of this 'Ms. Kyle' nonsense! Call me Selina. I'm such a huge fan of your show!"

The younger woman fully blushed at this. "Oh, wow, thank you! I'm flattered."

The two woman engaged in conversation about _Hello, Megan!_ , talking about complex plot lines and funny jokes and _My favorite scene was_ blah, blah, blah, _what was filming that like_? when a sudden cry broke out. Everyone turned to Dick, who was looking down at Damian, who was fixed on Rachel and reaching out his arms.

"Oh, thank God," Dick huffed, handing the baby off to Rachel. "Your turn."

"I—What?" said Rachel, disoriented.

The dark-haired man rotated his shoulders. "Damn, that's a heavy baby."

"Dick—" Rachel started to protest.

"Ms. Kyle?" A woman in a sleek silver dress and a headpiece came up to them. "You're getting on stage in a few."

"Fabulous," Bruce Wayne said, appearing out of nowhere. Garfield and M'gann jumped in surprise, but the rest of them were seemingly unbothered.

"Okay," Selina said to the PA, and turned to Bruce. "Shall we go, my love?" Selina asked with a brief kiss to Bruce's cheek. She looked back at everyone. "Be right back."

"Rachel?" Bruce asked, furrowing his brow.

"Hi," Rachel responded meekly.

"Ms. Kyle?" the PA repeated, and Selina pulled Bruce away.

A phone ring was heard, and Dick fished out his phone. "Same." Dick excused himself, pressing his phone to his ear and fleeing the scene.

Rachel glared at him as he left, adjusting Damian in her arms.

Someone managed to pull M'gann away, too, and now it was just Garfield and Rachel, with Damian trying to tug at her chin-length hair.

"So," Gar began, when a security guard approached Rachel and said something in her ear.

She nodded and looked back at Garfield. "I have to go."

Garfield stared after her and shook his head. _Well, time to eat I guess_ , he said to himself, searching for the buffet table.

* * *

"Having a good time?" M'gann asked when she finally sat down to eat next to Garfield.

"The food is _delicious_ ," he responded passionately after he swallowed his current bite. "There's _so_ many vegetarian options!"

"Well," M'gann pointed out, "It _is_ an animal conservatory."

"True that." He took another bite of his vegan carbonara.

M'gann giggled. "Careful, little brother," she said, using her napkin to catch the bit of sauce on his chin that nearly dripped unto his tie.

"Fanks," Gar responded, mouth struggling to chew his pasta all at once.

"Isn't that your friend?" M'gann asked.

Gar swallowed his food and turned to find Rachel, Damian still in her arms. He looked back at M'gann and motioned for a server. "Not—hi, sir, some water, please, yes, thanks—not really. We just have some common friends, that's all."

The server poured diligently and motioned to another glass on the table. "Would you like some iced tea, too, sir?"

"But I thought—oh, just water, please, thank you," M'gann smiled at the server. "Aren't you and Dick close?"

"Yeah. Him, his girlfriend Kori, and our other friend Vic. I just met Rachel."

"Ohhhh," she let out, understanding. "So not friends?"

He remembered the newspaper incident in the courtyard and shrugged. "Not really, I guess."

"Well, she's coming this way," M'gann pointed out. Gar whipped his head to find her two steps away.

"Hi," Rachel said, moving Damian to her other arm. Her hair covered her face when he refused to let it go. "Can I sit here?"

"Sure," Gar said automatically, adjusting. Underneath the table, he reached for his sister's knee and squeezed in panic. "Um," he said, "Can I help you?"

"Could I talk to you?" she asked tentatively. Her eyes drifted over to M'gann for the slightest moment that he probably imagined it, if he didn't feel M'gann move.

Gar squeezed harder. "Uh—"

"I'll be right back," M'gann blurted out, wrenching her way out of her brother's grip and leaving her water untouched.

 _Traitor_ , Gar's brain blurted out vehemently. He gripped the table cloth in an effort to quell his panic.

"Okay," the dark-haired girl sputtered, practically eating her hair. Damian clapped, one of his hands still firmly gripping her strands.

Gar, not knowing what else to say, said, "I think he likes you."

"He's always been like this," she replied. Rachel gently unfurled Damian's grip from her hair and gave him a spoon from the table setup to play with. She seemed to be mulling over what to say next.

It was so awkward Gar wanted to crawl under the table to avoid this whole situation.

After what seemed like an eternity, Rachel sighed. "I would like to… apologize. For yesterday. I was… rude."

"You? Rude?" Garfield quipped snidely before he could help himself. At the sight of Rachel's surprised face, he sighed. "Sorry. I tend to talk before I think." He shook his head. "But look, you're right. It wasn't my business and I shouldn't have been messing with what was yours."

"It was a newspaper, not private property. I… overreacted," Rachel said, a little pink.

 _Was she… embarrassed?_ Garfield thought to himself.

"I'm sorry," she continued with a shake of her head. "I'm not exactly the most social person, too, so a lot of the time, I come off as standoffish. I apologise. I truly didn't mean to offend you."

Gar blinked. "I—"

The sharp sound of glass breaking cut through the air, then a wail. Everything went quiet as everyone in the area turned to look at the commotion.

Broken glass littered the table and floor, the pale brown of the iced tea inching its way through the white of the table cloth, and of Rachel's cream dress. Her arms were soaked with the drink, dripping down as she held the baby away from the damage.

Gar had jumped back in shock, avoiding most of the spill. His eyes widened as he tried to process what just happened.

"Damian!"

"Rachel!"

Dick came running towards them, Bruce not far behind. Bruce gently took the crying Damian in his arms, trying to shush the baby.

"You okay, Rae?" Dick worried.

Selina and M'gann came rushing over.

"What happened?" M'gann asked.

"Damian smashed a glass," Gar explained, still a little shook up from the incident. "It was all an accident!"

He was watching Rachel, still kind of surprised. When she came to, her eyes sought out Bruce. "Bruce, I'm so sorry—"

"Rachel—" Dick started.

She continued, "It was an accident, I didn't—"

Bruce raised a hand to stop her. "It's fine, it's fine," he said, but his facial expression clearly said _It is not fine_. "Go get changed."

"Come on," Selina murmured gently, "I have a spare dress in the car. Though it's not your style…"

"It'll be fine, Sel," Bruce said, calming Damian. "Selina, just go get her cleaned up."

Selina's face morphed into a sharp look, but it was so quick Gar was sure he imagined it. Dick's, though, wasn't as quick to vanish.

" _Please_ ," Bruce added.

Saying nothing, Rachel let herself be led away, staring at the floor as she did.

"Just an accident, folks," Dick announced, not taking his eyes off Bruce the entire time. "Nothing to see here."

"Come on, Gar," M'gann said, tugging on his arm to bring him aside. "Let's let the busboys clean up."

* * *

Dick followed Bruce into the holding area behind the stage. "What the hell, Bruce?!" he hissed.

"What?" Bruce murmured, keeping his voice down as he tried to shush a crying Damian.

"Was that really necessary?!"

"Asking Selina to lead her away to change her stained dress? I thought I was doing her a favor."

"Not that!" Dick said, annoyed, "I meant the _shooing_ her off when it was clearly an accident!"

"I _shooed her off_ because she's not even supposed to be here." Bruce said, frowning. He adjusted Damian to lean on his shoulder, gently rubbing the hiccuping baby's back. "What is she doing here?"

Dick's face would have been comical if he wasn't so angry. " _What_?"

"I asked: What is she doing here?" Bruce repeated. "This event is _invite only_."

"She's a One Hundred scholar; _of course_ she's going to be here!" Dick shook his head. "Are you trying to change the subject? She didn't do anything wrong!"

"I didn't say she did," Bruce responded evenly.

"But you made her _feel_ like she did," Dick said vehemently, "Rae's gone through a lot, the least we can do is—"

"Dick, listen to me," Bruce said, voice low enough that only Dick and Damian could hear. "Rachel was _not_ on the list of invitees to this dinner."

Dick stopped. "What? Wait. How do you know that?"

"I crossed her out myself."

The younger man shook his head, confused. "I don't understand. She's a One Hundred scholar. She's automatically invited to these things.

Bruce nodded. "Yes, she is, and for _private_ events she's automatically part of Wayne Enterprises official and auxiliary events, not only because of her standing as a scholar, but also because she's part of our family. _But_ ," Bruce continued, "This is a _public_ event, Dick. Filled with people who can take _photos_ of her, confirm her location, and her _companions_. Public photos for a public event that will be published where _anyone_ can access it." He looked at Dick pointedly. "Are you seeing where I'm getting at here."

"Wait," Dick breathed, "You mean—"

"Someone knows," Bruce confirmed, patting a quieting Damian's head.

"They brought her out to confirm it," Dick pieced together, turning pale.

"And they're close enough to Selina to be able to pull strings," Bruce finished.

Dick cursed, wanting to kick himelf. "Shit, and we worked so hard to hide her…" He ran a hand over his face. "Selina doesn't know, does she?"

Bruce shook his head. "I don't want her involved."

"You really like her, huh?"

"I don't see how this is the time to tease."

"I wasn't teasing. Just stating facts."

"I'll try to investigate on my own," Bruce said after some time. "Don't alert Rachel yet."

" _What_?" Dick cried. "You can't be serious! We have to let her know she's—"

"We _will_ let her now, just not now," Bruce pressed, "If we pull her out too early, we might lose our only chance of ending this once and for all."

Dick pressed his lips together. "I don't like this, Bruce."

"Neither do I," the older man said with a sigh, handing Damian over. "But as our options are limited, this stays between us. Understand?"

"I don't like this," Dick repeated, rocking the sleepy baby, "But fine."

"Good." Bruce pulled out his phone and dialed a number, holding it to his ear. "Go check on Rachel. I have to make a call."

"Are you gonna tell Selina?" Dick asked before the older man could leave.

Bruce paused and shook his head. "I don't know."

Dick sighed and watched his mentor leave. He looked down at a gurgling Damian, clueless and happy. "Ignorance is bliss, Little D," the older boy murmured, tickling the baby's side. "Ignorance is bliss."


	3. Chapter 2, pt. 2

The party segment of the fundraiser was in full swing, which was absolutely perfect—people were mingling and getting to know each other, bonding over the admittedly delicious food and the common interest of feline conservation. While she could certainly pull it off, Selina Kyle wasn’t an avid fan of networking—she was more of a solitary creature, like… like a household cat, she supposed—but if it needed to be done, it needed to be done.

 _This_ particular person, though… Something was _off_. Perhaps it was the upturned grey hair that looked like horns, or perhaps it was because she was just tired, and not in the mood to rub elbows any longer. Nevertheless, she needed a way out, or at least some back up.

Spotting her boyfriend passing nearby, she called for him. “Oh, excuse me—Bruce!” She motioned for him to come over. “I want you to meet someone. This is Sebastian Du Sang, one of my more recent investors. Sebastian, this is Bruce Wayne.”

“The living legend himself,” the man Selina introduced as Sebastian said grandiosely, extending the hand that wasn’t holding a glass of wine for a shake. “Pleased to meet you, Mr. Wayne.”

Bruce obliged and noticed how tight the man gripped his hand. He filed that away for future reference. “Please,” he said, “Bruce is fine.”

“Ah, Bruce then,” Sebastian said, straightening his already-perfect tie. “Please, call me Sebastian. I was just talking to Selina about how _wonderful_ this effort is—”

“Are you a fan of big cats?” Bruce cut him off.

Sebastian twitched in the slightest—undetectable to anyone, but Bruce Wayne wasn’t just anyone. “Any animal is worth saving,” Sebastian said valiantly.

“An admirable statement,” Selina agreed mildly.

“May I know what you do, Sebastian?” Bruce inquired.

The grey-haired man shrugged. "In my personal time, I like dabbling in a bit of buy-and-sell real estate, stock trading, and similar endeavors," he said off-handedly, straightening his tie again, "But my main business is running Dolob Inc. We’re focused on farming and manufacturing vegetarian and vegan ready-to-eat products. Perhaps you’ve heard of our new product, Newfu?”

“Most of the catering was done by his team,” Selina pointed out.

Sebastian raised his glass in her direction, smiling at her in a way that didn’t sit well with Bruce. “Which I thank _you_ for the _generous_ opportunity, of course.”

“How wonderful,” Bruce said flatly, wrapping his arm around Selina’s waist protectively. He enjoyed the slight displeasure on Du Sang's face when Selina cozied up to him a little, but didn't let it show. He changed the subject. “I’m glad you’ve joined us in funding Selina’s...," he smirked down at his girlfriend, "passion project. It’s one of the things that have become more... adamant in taking up her time.”

Selina pouted, playfully smacked Bruce in the chest. “Ignore that, Sebastian. Bruce is very supportive, he just isn’t be public about it.”

“Of course,” Sebastian responded with a nod, “Businessmen have to keep an image, after all.”

Bruce raised an eyebrow, not at all bothering to hide how off-putting the statement was. “What do you mean by that?”

The older man shrugged. “Well, we have to be more… _judicious_ on how we portray ourselves to the public. We can’t be too lenient with our relationships, now, can we? As representatives of our brand and businesses, we have to stick close to the image.”

Bruce hummed, considering. “I suppose it depends. I don’t believe we’re _required_ to stick to a certain image, as businessmen, and as investors we don’t necessarily have to choose to publicly announce our causes. But I believe Wayne Enterprises has its grips in more than enough industries that we’re free to portray any image we want to.”

Sebastian’s jaw stiffened for a fleeting moment, as if Bruce had imagined it. But it was gone, like a whisper in the wind, and the man's lips curled into a smile. “Of course,” he responded, seemingly not at all bothered, “I should have known the rules don’t apply to you. I’m talking to _the_ Bruce Wayne, after all. It’s no wonder that your confidence managed to trap the enigma that is Selina Kyle!”

 _Trap?_ Bruce thought incredulously, eyebrows crinkling together in the slightest.

“It’s an _interesting_ partnership, to say the least,” Selina purred up at him, cutting him off before he could say anything.

“I—” Sebastian was about to say, when the shattering of glass was heard, immediately by a baby’s wail.

Bruce immediately spun and took off.

“Oh my,” Selina said, excusing herself and staring in the direction Bruce had left. “Excuse us, Sebastian.”

“Of course, go ahead,” he responded cordially, watching her sinewy back as she did so. Trailing her trajectory, he spotted the crying baby in the arms of a girl with pale skin and dark hair, reminiscent of...

"How interesting," he hummed, taking a sip of his wine.

* * *

The function went on as planned, albeit with a little time adjustment, even with the occurrence of the broken glass incident. Although, despite the smooth execution of things, Dick was a little more irritable than usual. Maybe he was getting annoyed with Damian, who seemed to be _enjoying_ bursting into tears whenever Dick tried to take a seat.

“I thought you wanted to _sleep_ ,” Dick hissed at his little brother, who had burst into tears again. Dick looked around, desperate. Bruce was busy on his phone, probably calling Jim. Selina had whisked Rachel away to clean up. He narrowed his eyes when he spotted M’gann. _Maybe…_

He walked over to Garfield and M’gann’s new table. “Hey. Mind if I sit here?”

“Nah, man,” Gar welcomed, “Go ahead.” He snickered when the baby started wailing just as Dick sat next to him.

“Come _on_ , man,” Dick whined, standing back up. “At least let me _sit_!”

M’gann smiled with sympathy. “I can carry him for you, if you want.”

 _Oh, thank God_. “Oh, no,” Dick said, casually, “It’s fine, really—”

“Come on, Dick,” M’gann coaxed, getting out of her seat. “I’ve been wanting to hold his cute baby all day!” She extended her arms.

“You think you can handle him?”

“I _know_ I can handle him,” M’gann said confidently, motioning for him to hand over the baby.

Dick resisted the urge to narrow his eyes when Damian, suddenly all bright-eyed and _quiet_ , let himself be carried by the redhead without a fuss.

“Hey, cutie!” M’gann gushed, hugging him in her arms and turning to leave. “Let your big bro rest for a bit; let’s go look at some of the animals! You like that?”

Gar watched his sister walk away, coddling the baby while speaking a liberal amount of parentese. When she was out of earshot, he zeroed in on Dick with a slightly impressed smirk. “You totally did that on purpose.”

“I totally don’t know what you’re talking about,” the dark-haired man replied innocently, taking generous comfort in taking a seat next to his friend.

Gar rolled his eyes, chuckling. “You’re lucky M’gann is obsessed with kids.”

“Again, I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Dick chuckled. After a beat, he said, “Hey. Sorry you had to witness the whole…,” he trailed off.

“What?” 

Dick waved his hand in the air. “You know.”

“ _What_?” Gar shook his head, confused. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Bruce and Rachel,” Dick clarified.

“Oh, that.”

“They have a… complicated relationship.”

“Really? Hadn’t noticed,” Gar said flatly.

Dick winced. "Yeah. It... They don't really..."

"Get along?"

"See eye to eye," Dick corrected.

Gar nodded, letting his eyes wander. Eventually, he had to ask. “So is she your cousin or something?”

“Huh?”

“Rachel. You said you’ve known her for a while,” Gar pointed out.

Dick ran a hand through his hair. "Oh. Yeah. I mean, no, she’s not my cousin, but yeah, I’ve known her for a while. That’s complicated, too.”

“Your life seems to have an ongoing theme, here.”

“No kidding,” Dick muttered under his breath. Checking his watch, he decided it was late enough for a drink. Motioning for a server, he asked Gar, “Care for a beer?”

Gar grinned. “Sure, why not.”

* * *

It was Dick who spotted Rachel first. “Wow,” he openly gaped, “You look beautiful, Rae.”

At the mention of the words, Gar did his best to turn and look at the newcomer without sloshing any alcohol (externally _or_ internally).

Objectively, Dick was right. The dress was floor-length, and the material was composed of tiers of a sheer maroon that layered into a beautiful, rich hue of the color. The fabric moved softly when she did, like an echo of her body, and the display of cleavage in between the waist and the bow that tied the dress around her neck was surprisingly modest. She had a nicely-shaped cleavage, perfect for the dress.

Garfield decided that that last errant thought was the doing of three ( _was_ it three?) bottles of beer.

Rachel, looking more than uncomfortable in the garment, profusely thanked Selina as the woman made her way back to her partner. Rachel shuffled over to Dick, the tiers of her skirt ruffling like water. When she sat, the fabric fell so perfectly around her it was hard to convince himself that she _borrowed_ the dress.

“The dress looks good,” Dick said honestly.

“Thanks,” Rachel said a little stiffly, “But I would prefer it if she didn’t lend me something that costs a thousand dollars.”

Dick smirked. “Don’t be ridiculous. Selina would never wear anything under five thousand dollars.” He snorted when Rachel paled. “I’m kidding, Rae. Relax.”

She glared at him and scoffed, reaching out to smack his shoulder. “Whatever.”

“You want a beer?” Dick offered. When Rachel glared at him, he shrank. “Shit, sorry. Right. No drinking.”

“Huh?” Garfield said intelligently.

At that moment, Dick’s phone rang in his pocket. He pulled it out and cursed at the sight of the caller ID. “It’s Kori.” He pressed the speaker button on his phone. “Hey, babe.”

 _“Hi, Dick,”_ Kori’s staticky voice came through.

“I’m with Gar and Rae,” he said,

_“Oh, hello, friends!”_

Garfield and Rachel said hello, the latter far less enthusiastic than the former.

“What’s up?” Dick asked.

_“Could you turn off the speaker?”_

“Huh?” Dick asked.

_“Please?”_

“Oh, uh, sure,” he said, putting the phone back on handheld mode and pressing it to his ear. After a few moments, he blushed, stiffened and walked in a suspiciously straight line out of earshot.

His sudden departure left Garfield and Rachel in awkward silence.

At first, he tried to look away. Maybe for a few minutes, he was looking at everything else _but_ her. But when Gar’s eyes gave Rachel a once-over, he noticed that she visibly shrank into herself, folding her arms over her chest. She bent over, hiding a little bit of her torso, and fixed her gaze on the stage where Selina was currently raising funds for future conservation efforts. Her body language _screamed_ uncomfortable.

He wasn’t going to ask about it. They weren’t really friends. It wasn’t his business.

Still, was she okay?

Rachel blinked. “Sorry, what was that? I didn’t hear you.”

Gar blinked, realizing he voiced his thoughts out loud. _Stupid beer_. He cleared his throat. “I said, ‘Are you okay’?” he repeated.

It took her a moment to answer. “No,” she said honestly.

Gar decided that any and all actions or statements he uttered during this conversation was the product of his compromised sobriety. He shrugged off his suit jacket and handed it to her. “Here you go.”

The dark-haired girl blinked, surprised. “What’s this for?”

“The buttons go up all the way here,” he motioned near the top of the jacket, “In case you’re not comfortable.”

“I—” She shook her head and raised a hand. “No, thank you.”

“You sure? I don’t really need it; it is kinda warm here—”

“Yes, I’m sure,” she mumbled. After a pause, she continued, “I meant it, you know.”

“Which one?” Gar’s brow furrowed, hanging his jacket over the back of his chair. “The whole glass breaking thing was an accident, I saw it with my own two eyes—”

“I meant,” she cut him off, “my apology.”

He blinked, feeling awkward. “Oh.”

Rachel seemed to have not picked up on it. “I was rude. I’m not… very good with people,” she said awkwardly, “Especially with people I don’t really know.”

Gar couldn't help it—he snorted. “But that makes _no_ sense."

"Pardon?"

He waved his hand in the air dismissively. "You’re friends with Dick, right? You must’ve… _not_ been friends at some point.”

“The circumstances surrounding my friendship with Dick are complicated,” Rachel pointed out, “He doesn’t really count.”

“Complicated how? Wait, no, that's not the point," Gar reminded himself with a shake of his head. "Complicated or not, there was a before you met and an after you met scenario. Before you met, you didn’t know him, ergo you didn’t like him. After you met—”

“I didn’t say I didn’t like him,” Rachel mumbled softly in weak protest.

“—you ended up being friends, so you… I don’t know,” he said, moving his hands up to form a ball in the air, “Meshed, or something. The verb form of friendship.”

“Befriend?”

Gar pointed at her, his thoughts starting to muddle. “That. Hey, you’re good with words.”

“Uh, thanks?”

“Anyway, there. I forgot what I was saying. What was I saying?”

“I don’t remember,” she said, when Gar snapped his fingers.

“You said you weren’t good with people, right. Well, you don’t _have_ to be,” he said, sentences steadily growing longer without thinking. “I mean, I don’t know. I don’t really know you, but people are nice most of the time. _I’m_ nice. I try to make everyone my friend, which is probably a problem, but so far it hasn’t been. I just try to be nice. And you were mean. But that’s okay, I think?”

She stared at him.

Gar continued to ramble. “I mean, yeah, you were kinda mean at first, but maybe that’s who you are, right? Maybe you’re mean at first. And that’s okay, ‘cause there are people who will love you for who you are anyway. People who don’t don’t matter. Right?”

He honestly didn’t remember half of what he said, but the corner of her lip curled up.

“Are you drunk?” she asked, amused.

“Now I am, I think. I wasn’t, before you got here, or when we started, y'know, talking.” He paused. “By the way, nice dress. Looks good. I didn’t think it was appropriate to say earlier, because we weren’t friends then. But we’re friends now, right?”

“Right. Were you drinking with Richard?”

“Richard? Who’s Rich—oh, you meant Dick. Dicky-boy. Yeah, he had a few to drink. He drinks better than me though. I’m not good with alcohol.” He pointed to the several bottles on the table. “But we’re like… half of those. We share. We’re good share-ers.”

“Dick’s a fairly strong drinker," Rachel said, sounding mildly impressed.

"Dick's a fairly strong _stinker_ ," Gar said, snorting at his own senseless joke two seconds later. " _Ha_. Funny. I'm a funny guy! I'm funny."

"Here,” she said, handing him a glass of water that seemed to have appeared out of nowhere.

Gar beamed. “Hey, thanks. See? You’re a nice person.”

Rachel shook her head. “Sure. You want something to eat?”

“Yes, please. We’ve been drinkin’ so now we got’s to be eatin’.”

“I haven't been drinking, but all right. What do you want? Steak? They might have some left over.”

Gar held in the desire gag. “Vegetarian.”

“Oh, sorry. Eggs?”

He snapped. “Sounds scrum-diddly-umptious.”

“Okay. I’ll go get you some.”

“Okay. See you!”

“Hey,” Rachel said before leaving, “talking to Drunk You is much easier than talking to Sober You.”

“They’re the same person, one just says more things. Hey, where’d she go?” He waved carelessly at a server. “Sir, can I have more water, please? Thanks. Oh, by the way, nice socks. Could you get me some eggs?”

* * *

“Thank you, Alfred. He’s had a heck of a day,” Bruce said, handing the dozing Damian over.

“Good night, sir,” responded the butler, turning to carry the youngest Wayne to his own room.

“Thank God,” Selina groaned, flinging off her shoes and undoing her hair as she stepped into the bedroom she shared with Bruce. She tossed her purse on the armchair at the corner and slipped off the dress, ripping off the double stick tape that attached it to her breasts.

“I’m still amazed you manage to think of those things,” Bruce said with a smirk, shutting the door.

“The what?” Selina asked from behind him.

“The tape. It’s impressive.”

“Hmm. I guess being a woman makes you more resourceful.”

He chuckled, walking to the adjoined walk-in closet to put away his jacket and belt. “I suppose. Being a man is a simple job.”

“Couldn’t have said it better myself.”

Bruce hummed. “Selina,” he began.

“Mm?”

“Du Sang.”

“Sebastian?” she asked. “What about him?”

“Something’s not… right. With him.” Bruce shook his head, shimmying out of his pants. “I don’t mean to insult his mental capacity.”

“Don’t worry, I know what you mean.”

“He said I managed to ‘trap the enigma that is Selina Kyle’.” He splashed water on his face and dried it with a towel. “Odd choice of words.”

“I know. I hardly count myself as an enigma. Maybe a tart.”

“You are _not_ a tart.”

“Tell that to the legions of women willing to stab me with a pitchfork for getting it on with Bruce Wayne.”

The image made him chuckle. “Like some kind of witch?”

“Yeah. Or a thaumaturge.”

Bruce snorted. “That is _not_ a word.”

“It is, and I’m willing to bet top dollar. Anyway, back to the point.”

“Right, Du Sang. Some thing about him doesn’t sit right with me.”

“He rubs me the wrong way, too.”

“I hope he’s not rubbing you at all.”

He could practically _hear_ Selina gape in shock. “Did you just make a _joke_?”

He changed the subject. “Did you invite him?”

Selina’s sigh carried over from the bedroom. “Unfortunately, yes. His offer was too good to turn down. And it was a good move, marketing wise.”

“I agree. But still.”

“If I could avoid him, Bruce—trust me—I would.”

“I know you would,” he said, putting on boxers. “I just hope you don’t have to deal with him in the first place. You know, as—”

Bruce stepped out of the walk in closet and raised his eyebrows at the sight of his girlfriend. Selina was a vision, beautiful nipples standing stiff in the air, dressed in high-waisted lace underwear, sitting at the edge of their bed.

He must’ve been staring, because Selina laughed. “You were saying?”

“Doesn’t matter,” Bruce said gruffly, stepping in front of her and taking her hand. He pulled her up to stand and wrapped an arm around her.

“You sure?” Selina teased.

He ignored her and played with the ends of the silk ribbon that criss-crossed across her abdomen and held up her underwear. “Hmm. I didn’t notice this earlier.”

“You like it?” she teased. She trailed her fingers up his chest and laced her fingers behind his neck, pulling him in for a searing kiss. “Mm,” she said, pulling away, “That means you do, then.”

“I love it,” Bruce corrected, voice heady with desire.

“Think of it as my… thank you present for being my date today,” she purred against his skin as she laid open-mouthed kisses on his neck. “Is that fair?”

Instead of answering her, he simply kissed her again, letting her help him unbutton his shirt as he guided her to lie back on the bed.

* * *

“Is here good?” Dick asked, pulling over in front of the St. Thibault.

“Here’s perfect,” Garfield responded, reaching forward to firmly pat Dick’s shoulder as he exited the car right after his sister. He walked over to the passenger door as Dick rolled down the window and gave the driver a thumbs up. “Thanks for the drop off, Dick,” he said, hunching over to talk to him through the window. 

Raven sat back, letting Dick have space to converse.

“No problem, man,” Dick said warmly. “Hey, you sure you’re sober?”

“Yep, I’m sure.”

“Plus, he had, like, fifty eggs,” Rachel dead-panned.

“I’m a growing boy!” Garfield argued. “And it wasn’t fifty! It was like—”

“What? Forty-five?”

“ _Hey_!”

“I brought you five and you asked _five other servers_ to bring you more!” Rachel argued.

Dick laughed at them. “Thanks for coming!” he said to M’gann.

“Thanks for having us,” M’gann responded from behind her brother with a bright smile. “I had fun. The event was lovely!”

Dick laughed. “I’ll be sure to tell Selina. Good night, guys! Safe trip tomorrow, M’gann!”

“I will,” promised the older redhead. "Thank you!"

“Sober up, Gar,” Rachel quipped.

“I _am_!”

“Good night!” M’gann bade, waving from halfway towards the hotel entrance.

“Good night, Dick,” Gar said, before grinning at Raven. “Good night, Rachel.”

Rachel looked up at him and gave him a small smile. “Good night, Garfield.”

"Drive safe, Dick," the younger redhead saluted. Dick gave a final wave goodbye to the siblings before shifting into drive and zooming off.

When they got to the freeway, Dick shifted gears and asked Rachel, “You had fun?”

Rachel kept her gaze out the window. "Hmm?"

"You enjoyed tonight?"

She thought about it a little bit. “Surprisingly, I did.”

“Not too much fun, though?” Dick's tone was light and teasing.

“Just enough,” she said, a smile gracing her features. “I... made some friends.”

* * *

**CASE NUMBER 06 1 00098 2**

CONFIDENTIAL INFORMATION: PEOPLE V. —

THE CITY OF GOTHAM

**DISTRICT CRIMINAL COURT**

FOURTH JUDICIAL ZONE

**43RD BRANCH**

CONFIDENTIAL INFORMATION: PEOPLE V. —

**FORMAL OFFER OF EVIDENCE**

CONFIDENTIAL INFORMATION: PEOPLE V. —

**EXHIBIT “F” —** **LETTER DATED JULY 29, 2006**

CONFIDENTIAL INFORMATION: PEOPLE V. —

_July 29, 2006_

CONFIDENTIAL INFORMATION: PEOPLE V. —

_I never wanted to name you harbinger, like he did. I wanted to name you something pure, something beautiful. I dreamed of naming you_

CONFIDENTIAL INFORMATION: PEOPLE V. —

_I hope one day, you can forgive me. I hope one day you speak my tongue as I do, if only to be close to me in the only way you know how. I hope you live a long, full life. I hope you love yourself so much that you never regret who you are and who you become_

CONFIDENTIAL INFORMATION: PEOPLE V. —

_I’m so sorry, my child. I wish things could be different._

_With all the love in my heart,_

_Your mother_

CONFIDENTIAL INFORMATION: PEOPLE V. —

With the the submission and the admission of the above evidence together with the oral testimony of the plaintiff, the plaintiff rests its case.

Gotham City, 20 August 2006. ****

**RESPECTFULLY SUBMITTED.**

_SIGNED_

**ATTORNEY LUCY LANE**

_Counsel for the Plaintiff_

CONFIDENTIAL INFORMATION: PEOPLE V. —

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To all the lawyer readers: Please don't sue me for the shitty formatting of the document. I'm not a lawyer, I just looked up legal documents I could base off of.


	4. Chapter 3, pt. 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not claim ownership of the Bentley Bentayga. I can't afford it, anyway.

Today was a _fabulous_ day for Kori Anders.

She'd slept over at Dick's last night, which meant multiple sessions of getting... you know, comfortable sheets, and breakfast in bed sent over by Alfred from Wayne Manor.

Breakfast for _her_ , at least. Dick had... _another_ meal planned.

She looked down and tried to hide the wicked grin she had on her face by letting her hair fall down. It didn't quite match her image as the prim and proper exchange student, but she was European, as everyone seemed to conveniently forget. She had no reservations about sex as most Americans, and she truly, _truly_ loved sex with Dick.

Plus her French paper came back with an _A-plus_ , which, if she were being honest, wasn't really a big deal as she normally got A's in the class, but still. She could consider it as one of her best days to date.

Which was why Kori raised her eyebrows in mild surprise when Gar dropped his bag directly in front of her salad, rattling the table. Taking a seat, he practically melted into a puddle, hunching over and groaning as he did so.

"Something wrong, friend?" Kori asked.

"This is one of the worst days of my life," Gar mumbled into the linoleum table.

Her heart twinged with sympathy. "Midterm project?"

"Yes," came the whimper. He buried his head into his arms and muffled, "It's horrible and I wouldn't wish this amount of math upon anyone."

Kori giggled. "Oh, yes. I remember. The Game Development majors have engineering-level math, correct?"

"Which I frankly still don't get!" Gar straightened with frustration. "How much math did Whack-A-Mole need? I bet not plenty!"

"Whack-A-What now?" someone said from behind him.

Kori looked up and beamed. "Hello, Victor! Please, come sit," she said, patting the seat next to her.

"Nothing," Gar huffed. He moved his bag to the seat next to him when Victor pushed at it with his elbows.

"Garfield is frustrated over how much math there is in Game Development," she explained.

"Ooh," Victor responded, setting his lunch tray on the table. "Where you at now, G?"

"Protoyping," groused Garfield, "I hate midterm season."

Vic shook his head. "I second that. Biomech is killing me. I need to finish the arm I'm working on."

"The what?" Gar asked, incredulous.

"The prosthetic arm," Vic clarified, picking up his burger.

"Oh, was the thing you were working on in the computer lab?"

Vic nodded and took a large bite of his burger. "Man, am I excited for this week to end. I've already had my fourth cup of coffee _today_."

"It's only Monday," Gar pointed out.

"And you hate coffee," Kori chimed in, concerned. "Are you not... extremely sensitive to it?"

"I am," the big man said flatly, "I've decided to forgo sleep for the next forty-eight hours."

Gar marvelled. "Holy shit, that sounds like a good idea."

At that moment, a sharp trill resounded and their table vibrate. Kori snatched her phone off the table and answered the call, pressing it to her ear. " _Bonjour_? _Oui, bonjour,_ Rachel _. Avez-vous besoin de quelque chose_? _Bien sûr. Je suis à la cafétéria à… Oui, oui. Je te verrai prochainement_."

"Who was that?" Vic asked.

The redhead lowered her phone. "Rachel," she answered.

Gar tried to be casual. "Oh, is she joining us for lunch?"

"I did not think it would be a problem," Kori pointed out innocently, "As you already bonded over the weekend."

Vic blinked. "What?" He turned to Gar with confusion. "What's she talking about?"

"It's no big deal, we just hung out during the thing I had this weekend with my sister."

"Wait," the darker man said, shaking his head. "I'm confused. What was this weekend? Where'd you go? Why'd you hang out?"

"The Animal Conservatory had a fundraiser for their feline section," Kori answered the first question.

"It was at the Jump City Zoo," Gar answered. "And she was there, and so was Dick. We all hung out together."

"Wait, Kori, how do you know?"

"Dick had to attend as Selina was spearheading the event. I called him and he put me on speaker, and it so happened that Garfield and Rachel were there with him."

"And why were _you_ there?" Vic asked, pointing at Gar.

The redhead through his hands in the air. "I just said! I was with my sister."

"Your sister?" Vic asked, before smacking his forehead. "Oh, right. I keep forgetting your sister's famous. Or that _you_ were, for a bit."

"Can you _not_?" Gar asked, looking around to see if anyone heard.

"Relax, man, no one's gonna hear." Vic turned to Kori and changed the subject. "How come you didn't go with Dick, Kori?"

"I had work," she responded smoothly.

"Wait a second," Gar started, remembering, "Why'd you call Dick that night, by the way? He—"

"Hello, Rachel," Kori suddenly said, and rather loudly at that.

Garfield jumped in surprise.

"Rae!" Vic beamed. "Hey!"

"Hello, Victor." She turned to Garfield imploringly. "May I sit?"

"Huh?" he responded intelligently, before coming to. "Oh, right. Right! Sorry. Here, I'll just get these out of the way."

"Thanks," she said, taking a seat. She fished out a notebook from her book bag and handed it to Kori. " _Merci de me laisser emprunter cette_."

" _Bien sûr_ ," Kori responded kindly, taking the notebook. " _Ce n'était pas un problème. As-tu mangé_?"

When Rachel shook her head, a flicker of a frown flashed on Kori's face. Gar caught it.

" _Veux-tu manger_?" the redhead asked.

" _Non, merci_ ," Rachel replied tersely. " _La nourriture ici est dégoûtante_."

" _Tu devrais manger_ ," Kori pressed.

Vic rubbed his face. "Okay, look, I know y'all are just talking about nothing and I don't want to be rude, but _please_ stop with the French," he stressed, "Y'all are giving me a headache."

"Sorry," the girls apologized simultaneously.

"Thank you." Vic rubbed his face. "Man, midterms season is making me cranky."

"Aren't we all," Rachel said, before spotting and waving at someone. "Dick's here."

Dick jogged over and kissed his girlfriend on the cheek before settling next to her. "Hey, guys," he greeted, "Did you guys hear? Wally won fastest time at his last race."

Kori brightened. "Really? That is wonderful!"

"Which race?" asked Gar.

"I think it was the 800-meter."

"Damn," Victor whistled lowly, impressed.

"Who's Wally?" Rachel asked, confused.

"He's a friend of ours—well, a friend of Dick's, really," Gar answered, and shrugged. "Then we just ended up being friends with him."

"You remember him, right, Rae?" implored Dick. "I think you met him a few times. Lots of freckles, calls himself the Wall-man, flirts a lot?"

"Oh, you mean the annoying redhead who keeps bothering me whenever I see him around the manor?"

"Manor?" Victor asked. He smacked his forehead again. "Right, you used to live with Dick. Why do I keep forgetting things like this? First Gar, now you!"

Gar gaped at Rachel. "You used to live in _Wayne Manor_? When?"

" _And_ flirting with you," Dick added, ignoring Garfield.

"I do not understand why Wally needs to 'get it on' with almost every girl he sees, " Kori thought pensively.

Rachel snorted. "It's called having a small di—"

Dick cleared his throat loudly and glared at her.

"Small penis," Rachel corrected. Victor cackled and Gar snorted.

" _So_ ," Dick continued pointedly, choosing to ignore Rachel, "to celebrate, he's throwing a victory party on Friday. It'll be at the Warehouse. He has a table and everything. You guys in?"

"Of course," Kori answered.

"Same here," agreed Vic, "I'm gonna need a good rager to destress from this hell week."

Dick turned to face Rachel, who looked a little uncomfortable. "Hey," he said, "You're invited, okay?"

She shifted. "I wouldn't want to… intrude—"

"Intrude? On _Wally_? Impossible." Dick smiled when her lip twitched, and continued, "But if you don't want to go, it's fine. No pressure."

"I'll… think about it," she said noncommittally.

Gar pursed his lips and nodded, fishing out his packed lunch from his bag. "Sounds like it's gonna be fun. I'm in." Out of habit, he offered his container. "Tofu, anyone?"

Vic grimaced. "No, thank you, Grass Stain."

"Hater," Gar barked defensively. "And stop calling me that! I spilled wheatgrass on myself only once! _Once!_ "

"Once a Grass Stain, always a Grass Stain!"

"Victor!" someone called from afar.

"Oh, it is—" Kori began, but she was cut off.

"Ninja Turtle head!" Garfield countered.

"Green bean!"

"Victor!" Louder, this time. Still, Vic didn't hear it, or he chose to ignore it in favor of insulting Garfield.

"Tin man!"

Dick snorted.

"What?" Rachel asked, confused.

Vic turned red. "Don't bring that up!"

"VICTOR!" the voice bellowed.

Vic jumped and turned, redness now due to being flustered rather than being embarrassed. "Bee!"

"I have been _calling you_ for the past five minutes," the newcomer berated irately, before turning to everyone else to flash them a bright smile. "Hey, y'all!"

"Hi, Bee," Gar greeted. Kori did similar and Dick waved.

Bee glanced at Rachel. "I don't think we've met. Hi," she said, extending a warm hand. "I'm Karen, but you can call me Bee."

Rachel shook her hand and nodded. "I'm Rachel. It's nice to meet you, Bee."

Vic stood up to kiss Bee's cheek. "What's up, babe?"

Bee placed a hand on his bicep. "I was hoping to borrow you for a bit; I need some help in the engineering lab."

"Sure, babe, hold on," he responded, picking up the last bit of his burger and stuffing it in his mouth. "Gai, guyf," he let out, pulling Bee a way while she berated him while speaking with his mouth full.

When he was out of earshot, Rachel spoke. "I didn't know Vic had a girlfriend."

"They got together right after freshman year," Gar explained. "Well, my freshman year."

"Bee was in one of my General Education classes," Kori chimed in. "I believe I introduced them initially, but eventually they were in the same circle. She was a cheerleader."

Rachel nodded. "Oh, right, Vic was in football. I keep forgetting that," she murmured. "This was after his… accident, correct?"

Kori nodded.

"Man, that was devastating for Vic," Dick said with a shake of his head.

"I think it all worked out in the end," Gar said with a shrug. "He's studying biomech so he can further help out people and she's in biochem. Match made in scientific heaven, if you ask me."

Rachel pressed her lips together and nodded. It was an open secret that Victor had to get a knee replacement when it shattered during a game. If anything, the sports department had handled the case well, effectively suing the opposing team and having H.I.V.E. Academy's Mammoth banned from the sport for a number of issues.

But Victor was _heartbroken_.

 _Tin man_ , Rachel recalled. That explained it.

"Anyway," Dick spoke up, changing the subject. "He had to quit football to recover, but Bee quit cheerleading almost immediately after to support him. She basically held his hand throughout physical therapy, _and_ shifted to biochem, too. Eventually he got over football and shifted into biomech." He shrugged. "At this point, they're _for sure_ getting married."

" _Eventually_ ," Gar spoke up, voice muffled, "Bee doesn't like attention, especially after what happened to Vic, so they hardly talk about it. They're a very low-profile couple." He looked up at Dick and Kori. "Unlike _some_ people I know."

"We can hear you," Dick deadpanned.

"I _am_ looking right at you," Gar pointed out.

The dark-haired man grumbled while his girlfriend giggled.

"Anyway," Garfield shrugged, reaching for his lunch. "Anyone want tofu?"

While Dick declined, Rachel peered curiously. "What kind?"

"Well," he said, finally opening his container. The faint smell of Chinese food wafted through the air. "Today's specialty is sweet and sour tofu."

"Is there the mustard?" Kori asked.

"Uh, no?"

"Then I am not interested."

"I'll have some," Rachel spoke up. "I mean, if there's enough."

Gar blinked, not used to actually being taken up on his offer to share food. "Huh? Yeah! Yeah. Sure, no problem. I have enough, I think." He pulled out a second container. "Want some rice?"

"I..." Rachel nodded, leaning forward. "Yes, please. Thank you."

Kori watched the exchange with quiet interest, idly picking at her salad. _Interesting_ , she thought, something sparking in her brain. _Very interesting._

* * *

The rest of the week was a slow affair. _Too_ slow, for Wally's liking. So, needless to say, he was _beyond_ ecstatic when Friday rolled around.

"Thank you, _Jesus_ ," he muttered under his breath, practically sprinting back to his dorm to get dressed for his party.

Traversing the courtyard, he literally ran across Dick.

" _Wally_!" Dick yelled.

Wally cursed under his breath and ran back. "Dick! Sorry, man." Looking behind his friend, he found Kori. "Hi, beautiful!"

She rolled her eyes fondly. "Hello, Wally."

"Mind telling me what you're wearing tonight?" he teased, leaning forward and wiggling his eyebrows. "Want to make sure we _match_."

Dick shoved his friend's face away from his girlfriend. "Shove it, Casanova. You still riding with me tonight?"

Wally laughed. "Duh. What do you expect me to do? Run there?"

"Yeah, that's a great idea! Remind everyone why you're throwing this party," Dick laughed, dodging Wally's shove.

"Fuck off!"

"Congratulations again, Wally," Kori said sincerely. "I am very happy for you!"

"Thanks very much, gorgeous," he responded with a wink. "Hey, you know what would be a good gift?" He slung an arm around Kori's shoulders. "Hook me up with a friend of yours! Preferably a hot friend."

Dick smirked at Kori and a raised brow. "Didn't you do that already, babe?"

Wally dropped his arm. "She did not!"

"Yes, I have," Kori recalled thoughtfully, "But you didn't like her and decided to go for..."

Wally scowled. "Okay, fine! _Yes_ , asking your _psycho_ sister out was a mistake. Can you _please_ stop bringing it up?"

"Didn't you tell him Koma was a psycho, babe?"

Kori nodded. "Yes. I believe I warned him several times. And he still asked her out."

Dick hummed. "And what became of it?"

"I believe the outcome was called a 'raging dumpster fire'."

"And what does she have now?"

"She now has photos of his—"

" _Okay_ ," Wally cut off. "I get it. I'm dumb." He rubbed his face and muttered, " _God_. Biggest mistake of my life. Least she could've done was be a psycho in _bed_. The sex wasn't even that good!"

Kori grimaced and raised her hand to stop him. "Please, I do not need to hear more."

"Cleverness isn't measured by physics degrees," Dick said sagely.

"I don't have a physics degree _yet_ , and come _on_ ," Wally whined, "Help a boy out here! I haven't had sex in, like, a _week_!"

"A _week_?" Dick said, incredulous. "Who's the poor girl you managed to bamboozle _last_ time?"

"Unimportant," Wally said dismissively, waving his hand. "What's important is you hook me _up_! Preferably tonight." He clapped his hands in prayer and stared pathetically at Dick.

"I refuse to be responsible for you making people miserable," Dick said flatly. Wally's expression morphed into a glare before he resumed being pathetic again as he set his sights on Kori.

"But we will do our best," Kori said kindly, "We promise nothing, though. There's only so many who can tolerate you."

"Thanks, I… _hey_!"

"You good with leaving at nine?" Dick asked, changing the subject.

Wally scowled at an innocent Kori a little longer before answering, "Nine's good. Where do I meet you?"

"Does the dorm near the Art Building sound good?"

"The Nieli building?" Wally asked, furrowing her brow. "What's there?"

"I'm gonna pick Rachel up."

"Who's Rachel?"

Dick rubbed the bridge of his nose. "The girl who used to live at the Manor? Back when we were, like, ten."

"Wait." Wally's jaw dropped. "Rachel _Roth_? Dark hair, pale skin, permanent scowl, hot legs?"

"What?"

All three of them turned to find Garfield staring at Wally incredulously.

"Gar!" Wally cried, "Hey!"

"Hey. Raven has hot legs?" Garfield asked, still confused.

"Oh, yeah," Wally whistled. "And she really knows how to use 'em, too!"

" _What?_ "

Kori cleared her throat loudly. "I believe we do not need to discuss this any further."

Wally found Dick serving him a glare that, if looks could kill, could half pierced a hole through his skull. "Right." He straightened. "Seeing you later, G?"

"You know it," Gar responded with a fist bump. "I'm riding with Dick later."

"What? Wait. If Dick's driving, Kori's _for sure_ riding, _you're_ riding, _I'm_ riding…" He turned to Dick. "What are _you_ driving? Don't you own a 911?"

Dick shrugged. "Yeah, but it's too small to fit all of us."

"So what car are you gonna use? Gonna borrow from Brucey?"

Dick waved his hand dismissively. "Nah. Bruce gave me a new SUV. Forgot the name, but it's a product of one of the Wayne Industries factories for some brand I forget the name of. Said it's pretty good, so I decided to take it."

Wally snorted. "Probably a reject. Face it, Grayson, you know race cars, but you don't know SUV's. Bruce gave you the slip, there."

* * *

" _You have a Bentley Bentayga_?!" Wally shrieked, dumbfounded. He stopped a few feet from the car in absolute shock, Gar jumping in surprise at the high-pitched yell, turning to find that not only did he leave his companion behind, but also Wally, who looked like he was on the verge of _actual tears_.

"A what?" Dick said, confused, staring at his friend from inside the car.

"A _Bentayga!_ " Wally gaped, "This is a _Bentayga_!"

Dick, clearly not understanding the significance of what Wally was saying, raised an eyebrow. "Oooookay. And?"

"It is a _Bentayga!_ "

Kori furrowed her brow. "I am not understanding this situation."

"You're not the only one," Dick muttered.

Wally flailed. "They just released the _name_ of this last year!"

Dick scratched his cheek. "Uh, I guess? I don't really know."

Gar gave Wally a weird look as he inched around the flailing redhead and slid into the backseat.

"Y _ou 'don't really know'_?!" The runner groaned, melting to his knees.

"Is Rachel coming?" Gar leaned forward to ask Kori.

"Yes, but she is finishing a paper," Kori responded from the passenger seat, "She said she will be down in five minutes."

" _Kor, I'm begging you,_ " Wally sniffled, "Please, _please,_ let me sit in the front seat. _Please_."

Dick reached out to hold Kori's hand as if to keep her in place. "Babe, don't. _Please_."

She blinked.

* * *

Raven walked out of her dorm building as soon as she finished the last few words of her paper, expecting to see Kori in the driver's seat, Gar already in the car, and Dick maybe telling her to hurry up so they wouldn't be late.

Instead, she saw a grumpy Dick, sitting at the wheel with his arms crossed; a Kori who was chatting animatedly with someone in the backseat; someone else she couldn't see from her vantage point, probably Gar, in the backseat, and; surprisingly, a weeping Wally, practically on his knees and lovingly caressing the hood of the vehicle, visibly uncaring of whether or not the bright headlights were burning his retinas.

"Uh," Rachel said, when she approached the car, careful to steer clear of the hood. "I'm here."

Dick rigidly set up to drive. "Thank _God_. Okay, let's g—Wally, get off the hood of my car or else I swear to God _I will run you over_."

* * *

"I should have left you behind," Dick grumbled, swatting Wally's arm from pushing another button on the dashboard.

"It's _beautiful_ ," Wally worshipped, "I can't believe you _have_ one of these. They only named this—"

" _Last year_ , I know, Wally, you've mentioned it at least thirty times," Dick said through gritted teeth.

"And it can go from—"

"Zero to sixty in four seconds."

"And the engine is—"

"The new twin turbo W12 engine, _yes, Wally, I know_. Now _shut up_. We're almost there."

"Can I have this?" Wally turned to Dick with wide, beseeching eyes. "Can I have this? Please? _Please._ "

Dick smacked Wally's arm, which was slowly approaching to no doubt _stroke_ the steering wheel, away. " _No_."

"Can I ask Bruce for one?"

"No."

Wally whimpered.

Rachel watched the exchange with fascinated confusion, like one would watch a bar fight over something she didn't understand the source of. She leaned closer to Kori and whispered, "I still don't understand what's going on."

Kori considered. "Wally is… obsessed with cars."

"I can see that. But why?"

"They are only the _greatest modes of transportation ever invented_ ," Wally cut in vehemently. Gar jumped at the sudden vigor Wally's tone took. "The technology that goes into creating and improving a car from it's first model, the materials used, even the _seat belt_. It's amazing! They're amazing! I love cars." He caressed the dashboard again and took his hand back right before Dick smacked it away again.

"O-kay," Rachel said lowly.

"Wait. Seat belts?" Gar said incredulously.

" _Seat belts_!" Wally cried, "Did you know they were initially invented for the glider? Then retractable seat belts were used in neurology, but the three-point seatbelt we use today are—"

The car came to a screeching halt, nearly launching Wally clean across the dashboard and through the windshield if nor for his seat belt. Gar, Kori, and Rachel immediately held on to whatever they could—Rachel held on to the passenger seat, Kori's arms pushed against the two headrests in front of her, and Gar yelped and latched on to Kori.

"Whoops, good thing your seat belt saved you," Dick sneered, sarcasm dripping from every word. "No time to finish the story. We're here."

Wally, completely oblivious, regained his bearings and said, "We can go in later. Anyway, as I was saying, the three-point seatbelt—"

" _GET OUT OF THE CAR!_ "

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't speak French. All translations are by Google Translate.
> 
> "Hello? Yes, hello, Rachel. Do you need something? Of course. I'm in the cafeteria at ... Yes, yes. I'll see you soon."
> 
> "Thanks for letting me borrow this."
> 
> "Of course. It was not a problem. Did you eat? [...] Do you want to eat?"
> 
> "No thanks. The food here is disgusting. "
> 
> "You should eat."


	5. Chapter 3, pt. 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, I do not own the rights to the Bentley Bentayga. I can't afford the rights to the Bentley Bentayga. I can't even afford to own ONE Bentley Bentayga.

She hoped it didn’t show on her face, but as soon as she stepped into the club, Rachel could already feel the deep, _deep_ hatred she had towards herself at this very moment. Mostly for agreeing to go along with this.

Truthfully, she was okay, at first. She was amused by Dick’s attempts to kick Wally out of his Benteger (or something), and later, _off_ of it without trying to ruin the paint job. He had finally succeeded after nearly running Wally over.

The Warehouse was, as she should have expected with the name, an actual warehouse. It was a run down piece of property by the docks that used to ship _deeeeaaaad booooodiieees_ , as Wally had put it, wiggling his fingers at them for effect. Dick had snorted and smacked the back of Wally’s head. (He had then said that it used to be an old Wayne Shipping warehouse that wasn’t being utilized, so it was sold. Wally then proceeded to gripe on Dick being a spoilsport. He had been ignored.)

“I don’t know the full story,” Dick had said with a shrug, “But as far as I know, this whole area was bought. No idea why only one warehouse is operational.”

“I _told_ you, it’s where they store the _dead bodies_ ,” Wally had howled, earning another smack to the arm. “ _Ow!_ Stop _hitting me!_ ”

“Stop being stupid,” Dick had snapped, finally leading them to the entrance.

Even from the parking area 20 feet away, she could hear the music. Walking closer made her realise that the music alone would ruin everything, and this whole outing would give her a headache.

She wasn’t even _dressed_ for the occasion. Her dark jeans and turtleneck—though both form-fitting and, as Kori said, accentuated her shape quite well—were pajamas compared to Kori’s feathery lilac tube dress.

It was cute, even Rachel had to admit. But it also looked _very_ high maintenance and most likely _very_ expensive that, if Rachel ever wore something similar, would have _terrified_ her to even go outside lest she rip out a single hundred-dollar feather. But the model was moving gracefully, feathers bouncing as she did, the length (or lack thereof) of the dress showcasing her tanned, gorgeous, mile-long legs.

Rachel shook her head and looked away. She sighed inwardly, trying to gather her thoughts and push away ill feelings. _No point in getting upset_ , she chided herself gently. _And you said yes to coming here. You have no one to blame but yourself_.

“Hey!” someone called indignantly in front of her.

Wally was being stopped by the impressively scary man guarding the door to the Warehouse.

“No invite, no entry,” the man said roughly.

 _That explains the lack of a line_ , Rachel thought to herself, peering at the sparse littering of people at where the line should have been.

“But _they_ got in!” Wally cried, indignantly gesturing towards Dick and Kori, arm in arm and well into the building.

A call of their names cut the angry redhead off. “Wally! Rae! BB!”

Rachel turned and blinked at the mention of her name. Gar spoke first. “Vic! ‘Sup, man!”

“Yo, yo, y— _Gnarrk!_ ” Vic greeted the bouncer jovially, employing a complicated handshake that involved elbow-bumping. “How _are_ you, man? It’s been a while!”

Wally gaped. “You _know_ him?” he asked Vic incredulously, jaw dropping at their warm exchange.

“Yeah, man! This is Gnarrk, we used to be in community football together,” Vic answered. “This is Gar, Rachel, and Wally.”

Gnarrk grunted.

“It’s so nice to see you again, man! How are you?”

Another grunt.

Gar leaned towards Rachel and whispered, “Is it me or is he not actually saying words?”

Rachel shook her head. “I don’t think it’s you.”

They watched as Victor had a seemingly one-sided conversation before clapping the bouncer’s shoulder. “It’s good to see you, man! I’ll give you a holler before I head home for the night.”

Another grunt, and Gnarrk stepped aside to let Victor in.

“Thanks, buddy! Come on, guys.” The former football player strode in, presumably looking for Dick and Kori.

Wally huffed and stepped forward, before being stopped by an intimidatingly large hand. Rachel and Gar, who had followed behind Wally, came to a sudden stop.

“Oh, _come on_!” Wally sourly fished out and flashed his phone screen at Gnarrk. The hulking man leaned in and narrowed his eyes before straightening and letting him in.

Rachel and Gar glanced at each other. They didn’t know this Gnarrk guy, all their friends were inside, they had no invites, and they would probably be stuck out—

Gnarrk gestured for them to head inside.

Wally, who had watched the scene with unmasked shock, griped, “You’ve gotta be kidding me!”

* * *

Rachel, Garfield noticed, had on something that looked like a faint scowl as soon as they walked into the Warehouse.

“Hey,” he said over the loud, pounding bass of the music, “You okay?”

She glanced at him, the frown seemingly vanishing, before nodding. “I’m fine,” she said. Or mouthed. The music was too loud to tell.

Someone had tapped his shoulder, and he turned to see Vic pointing to where Wally was directing them. He and Rachel shuffled over to a booth near the DJ, and when they got there, there were already a few people already seated, drinks in hand.

“Hey, guys!” Bee greeted, getting up to wrap her arms around her boyfriend.

“Hey, baby,” Vic said with a large grin, very obviously appreciating the tiny dress she wore for the evening.

Kori was kissing the cheeks of almost everyone present, while Dick called Rachel over. Gar watched, bemused, how all of Dick’s childhood friends suddenly hugged her, chatty and animated.

 _Oh, right_ , Gar recalled, _Didn’t Vic say she used to live at the Manor_? The thought still shocked him. He still had so many questions about Rachel that he had no idea who he should ask. How were Dick and Rachel related? _Were_ they related? How _did_ she know Victor?

Gar shook his head as if it could shake away his thoughts. He was starting to sound like a bad soap opera narrator.

Bee traipsed over to him with two shot glasses in hand. “Ready for warm up shots?”

Gar looked over at the table and found everyone with a shot glass in hand. Looking around, he fished himself a beer bottle. He looked back at Rachel and offered her the glass. “You want a beer?”

“No, thanks,” she said. “I don’t drink.”

“Really?” Garfield asked, surprised. "Didn't you drink with me and Dick at the fundraiser?"

Rachel held in a small smile and shook her head. "No."

“Drinking game!” Wally cried desperately, cutting Gar off. “I wanna get hammered _now_!”

“Who doesn’t drink?” Dick asked around. “I know Rachel doesn’t.”

“You don’t?” Roy asked. Dick, who was standing next to him, shifted in the slightest and the strawberry blond yelped, hopping on one leg. “ _Ow_! Why would you _do_ that?!”

“And I don’t drink shots,” Gar clarified.

“So only Rae and Gar aren’t joining?” Vic clarified. The group nodded (except for Roy who was still nursing his foot), and Vic raised a glass. “Then let’s start now! Shot!”

Everyone threw their drinks back and stuck their tongues out for proof. Gar joined in with a small sip of his drink.

“Another!” Wally yelled over the music.

* * *

The beauty of having four boys who knew your history with alcohol, albeit in parts, made it easier to avoid drinking games, or have them bar you from it completely.

Well, at least in Rachel's case it was.

When she had been re-introduced to them, Dick’s childhood friend group had been _beyond_ ecstatic, as if she never kept to herself when they came over to the Manor to play and hangout with Dick. She’d always been timid as a child, which eventually grew into standoffishness. Not necessarily a good thing, but she thought it was a necessary defense.

She considered it a small reprieve despite the _extremely loud_ song about alcohol everyone except her seemed to know the lyrics of.

“ _Hey girl, where’s your drink, we gon’ all get real drunk tonight_ ,” Wally sang—screamed, really—while standing on the couch and facing the wall, jerking his hips in their direction.

“Yeah, Wally, twerk it!” yelled Bee, reaching over to smack the redhead’s ass.

Everyone around her was hammered, Wally rightfully being the _most_ gone. Garth, another one of Dick’s friends, seemed to still be decent, but he’d nearly fallen over when he’d tried to casually lean on the backrest of the booth. (Roy snorted at the scene only to run to the restroom as he had forgotten he still had alcohol in his mouth.)

Gar, surprisingly, was the most sober. He was definitely buzzed and relaxed, but compared to everyone here, he could probably still drive. And live.

“You okay?”

She blinked, failing to realize that she had been staring at him the whole time. Garfield was leaning forward with a concerned smile on his face. “You seem off.”

“I’m just tired,” was Rachel’s automatic response.

At that moment, Rachel saw Wally swipe a half-empty tequila bottle from the table, crashing a few shot glasses as he tipped the bottle mouth-down and poured the alcohol down Roy’s throat.

“ _Gar_!” Wally slur-yelled, losing focus, “You’re next!” He accidentally adjusted his angle and poured down the tequila into Roy's eye, who yelled and shoved Wally away.

“Excuse me!” Bee announced, snapping Rachel out of her thoughts.

She stood up from her position at the edge of the booth, letting Bee and Vic out. She tried not to look at how Bee practically had her hand down the front of his pants, but if she was being honest, she wouldn’t even be surprised. Dick and Kori have been gone for about 45 minutes now, and they’ve probably had around 10 rounds of sex at this point.

She held back a grimace. Even though it was probably true, she still didn’t like the thought. Dick was like her brother.

“You wanna go out for some air?” Gar asked, getting up from the booth. “Things are getting a little rowdy in here.”

Rachel’s eyes fell on Roy, who was polishing off his shot, and on Wally, who was already on the hunt for a new victim. She looked back at Garfield. “Good idea.”

Which it was. But she somehow managed to forget that going out for some air also meant going out into a quieter environment, which meant awkward silence. The thought only occurred to her as soon as Gar saluted Gnarrk as they strode out the exit.

She nearly slammed into Gar’s back when he stopped. “Do you wanna smoke?”

“Huh?” 

“Do you want to smoke?” he repeated, looking around. “I’m sure there’s a smoking area here somewhere.”

Rachel shook her head. “No, thank you. Kori was right; I should stop.”

“She told you to stop?”

“ _Tells_ me. Several times,” Rachel murmured, “Let’s go there.” She pointed to the railing overlooking the calm, black sea. There were a few people littering the railing, so Rachel picked the farthest away from anyone.

“Hey,” he said when they reached the edge, “Wanna hear a joke?”

“Why do I feel like I’m gonna regret this?” Rachel mumbled. If Garfield heard, he paid her no mind. Louder, she said, “Sure.”

“Okay, uh,” he considered, “I have a lot of jokes about unemployed people… but none of them work!” He finished with a large, wide grin and wiggled his hands in front of her.

She was not amused. “Never tell a joke in front of me ever again.”

“Aw, come on!” Gar said, “Don’t lock me out, Rae! Communication is _key_.”

“Don’t call me Rae.”

“Communication is key, Ra- _chel_ ,” he corrected.

She rolled her eyes. “I didn’t come out here to be told bad jokes.”

Gar grinned. “Yeah. You came out here because you hated being in _there_.” When she started for the club again, he laughed and gently held her back. “I’m kidding, I’m kidding! I’ll be good.”

“You sure about that?” she said dryly, giving him a once over.

Gar raised his hand in a salute. “Scout’s honor.”

“You were a boy scout?”

He dropped the salute and grinned. “Nope.”

* * *

Surprisingly, they’d managed to talk about mildly interesting, surprisingly agreeable things that didn’t have much to do with their personal lives—like tofu dishes, favorite seasons, even their shocking mutual irritation at Dick's sunglasses—and even if Gar was way too buzzed for his liking, it was comfortable. He didn’t feel that niggling pressure to just be… _on_ , not like he did with most people.

It was... nice, but it was probably the alcohol.

“What about the alcohol?”

Gar blinked. “Huh?”

“You said something about alcohol,” Rachel pointed out.

“Oh, uh…,” he scrambled to think. What _was_ he thinking about again?

"Gar?" she asked after some time.

He shook his head. “Sorry. Yeah—I think I had too much. Alcohol. Yeah.”

"You're not sober," she asked slowly, "Are you?"

Gar shook his head. "M'fine. Just a little."

"You sure? Because last time you drank you got really buzzed."

"Hey," he defended petulantly, "I had like ten bottles of beer last time!"

"And now?"

Gar scratched his cheek. "Like three."

“You want a drink of water?” she suggested helpfully.

He nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, that’s a good idea.” He rubbed his palms on his thighs and stood from the bench they were currently occupying. “I’ll be right back.”

Rachel nodded and looked out into the ocean as he left.

Walking back into the club was a little disorienting, but manageable. He found their table in record time, not even mildly surprised to find Wally passed out on the couch and Roy making out with some dark-haired girl in the inner section of the booth. What _did_ surprise him though was the pale pink-haired girl sidling away from their table.

She passed by him and glared. “Tell your _friend_ he’s a shitty kisser.”

Gar nearly choked on his own spit as the girl haughtily walked away. He stared at her retreating back. _What the fuck_?

Surveying the table again was regretful; _one_ mistaken glance in the wrong direction made him swiftly turn his back on Roy; he really did _not_ need to see _that_ much tongue. He brightened when he spotted Vic and Bee approaching.

“Hey,” Gar greeted.

“Hey!” Bee said cheerfully.

“Hey, man. Where is everyone?” asked Vic.

“Well, Roy’s playing tonsil hockey back here,” he said, pointing his thumb behind him, “Wally’s passed out, Dick and Kori are… somewhere, and—that reminds me, I’m getting some water.”

“Oh, that’s a great idea,” Bee said, flagging down a server and asking for a dozen water bottles. “Charge to that guy’s consumables,” she told the server, pointing at an unconscious Wally.

“Where’s Rachel?” Vic asked.

“Oh, she’s outside.”

The larger man did a double take. “ _Outside_? With who?”

“Me,” Gar answered, “Well, earlier. I’m getting water.”

“Yeah, you said that,” Vic said. He shook his head. “I’ve been looking for her for the past two hours, man. You mean to tell me you’ve been outside for two—oh, wait, almost three— _hours_? Doing what?”

Gar’s brow crinkled. “Talking…?”

“Whoa whoa whoa whoa whoa,” Vic said, raising both hands and shaking his head. “You—” he pointed at Gar, “and _Rachel_ ,” he pointed to outside the club, “are actually _talking_?”

The redhead scowled. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“ _She_ likes English literature. _You_ like fart jokes.”

“We’re not talking about English lit or fart jokes,” defended Gar.

“Then what _were_ you talking about?”

“I—” Gar shook his head. “I don’t know, I don’t remember. But nothing important.”

Victor was disbelieving. “For _two_ hours?”

“Water!” Bee cried, unloading the bottles unto the table. “Perfect. Thank you!”

Gar picked up two freezing bottles. “I’ll take two, thank you!”

“Hey, where’re Dick and Kori?” Bee asked, picking up a bottle. When she couldn’t get it open, she handed it to her boyfriend.

Victor, sufficiently distracted, took the bottle and twisted it until it popped. “No clue.”

Gar took the opportunity to bolt.

Water bottles in hand, he steadily made his way back to the bench. He hoped he didn’t take long, what with conversing with Bee and Vic and—

“I _said_ ,” he heard before he could see, “ _Get off_.”

The docks were dim, but there was enough light to give him hints that Rachel was the one who just spoke. She was being cornered by a big, burly dude with dark close-cropped hair.

“Come on,” the guy purred, slippery and unnerving, “Adonis will show you a good time, babe.”

 _Is this guy really speaking in third person?_ Gar thought, bewildered. Despite the ridiculousness of the notion, the growing nervousness he was feeling started to edge out his buzz.

“No, thank you,” Rae said firmly, and glared. “And _don’t_ call me babe.”

“Oh,” Adonis said. “Adonis was not _requesting_.” His tone hardened and the situation changed very quickly. Slowly, he started pressing her harder into the railings, coming closer. “Adonis can call you anyway he wants. But he prefers if you scream.”

Gar’s hair stood on end and it was like he lost his voice, his hands feeling numb beyond the ice he was carrying. _Hey!_ he wanted to scream, _Get off of her!_ But he felt frozen to the spot.

It felt like a movie, where you were so involved in what was happening yet so removed. His heart was pounding in his chest, his mouth was turning dry. _Do something!_

“ _Hey!_ ”

Gar let out a breath he had no idea he was holding, arms shaking.

Adonis turned and glared in the direction of where the voice came from.

“Leave her alone!” Dick snarled, marching towards the scene. Kori followed behind, quietly observing.

Adonis sneered. “And what will you do to stop Adonis?”

“Does Adonis wanna find out?” Dick growled, visibly preparing to fight.

Kori laid a hand on his shoulder. “Dick, don’t.”

At the sight of the model, Adonis shoved Rachel away and looked up the leggy redhead appreciatively. The darker-haired girl yelped when her side collided with the metal railing, a worrisome _pop_ reverberating through her torso.

As soon as her knees hit the ground, Gar came to and bounded towards her. “Rachel!” he cried as he crouched, voice full of concern, “Rachel, you okay?”

“Yeah, but my—” Rachel said, voice a little tight and breathy, “My side really hurts.”

“Well, well, well,” Adonis jeered, walking closer to Kori. “Adonis appreciates _this_ looker more.”

Dick looked like he was ready to spit hot fire, when his girlfriend stepped in front of him, feathers bouncing as she calmly walked towards Adonis.

“Hey, baby doll,” Adonis winked when she stopped in front of him.

Kori frowned. “I did not say you could call me ‘baby doll’.”

The bigger man reached for the redhead’s arm, and when his finger caressed her elbow, let’s just say that if Kori could shoot laser beams from her eyes, this man would be dead ten times over.

“I did not say you could touch me, either,” she said, low and threatening.

Adonis had the audacity to laugh, walking closer and twirling a finger around a lock of Kori’s hair. He tugged lightly. “Come on, sweetheart.”

Before Dick could launch himself at the man, Kori’s face twisted into complete and utter contempt. “Do _not_ ,” she snarled. “call me _sweetheart_." In a flash of movement, Kori’s knee collided with Adonis’ crotch with such a speed that made even Dick recoil.

Adonis howled, crumpling into himself as he gingerly comforted his nether regions. “You bitch,” he rasped after her as she fled to her friend's side.

“Rae,” Gar said, concern growing as he gently pressed the cold bottles to her injured side. “Rae, are you okay?”

Rachel whimpered. “Call Dick,” she said, voice small.

“Dick!” Gar yelled, only to find who he was looking for already fishing out the keys from his pocket.

“I’ll get the car,” Dick responded, practically sprinting to the parking lot.

Gar glanced at Kori, who had already fished out her phone and started calling either the authorities or their friends, he couldn’t tell.

Gar looked back to Rachel, transferring both bottles unto one hand and taking her free hand in his for comfort. “We’ll get you to a hospital, okay, Rae? Just hold on a little bit more, okay?”

“Okay,” she whimpered, her shaky hand tightly gripping his steady one. “Okay.”


End file.
